


And if You'd Understand, I'd Tell You Everything (Reddie AU)

by dandelionweekes



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Bill Denbrough - Freeform, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak - Freeform, Fluff, IT - Freeform, IT AU, LGBT, M/M, Reddie, Richie Tozier - Freeform, Richie pierces eddie's lip, Sad boi hours, Stanley Uris - Freeform, Trans Richie Tozier, Trans!Richie, come on if that doesn't make you want to read it I don't know what will, eddie wears richie's jacket, it's way too big, yeehaw my dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-10-31 07:04:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20788802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionweekes/pseuds/dandelionweekes
Summary: Richie Tozier is miserable, and he's always sort of been that way. But when a small boy with large doe eyes called Eddie moves to Derry, the heavy emotions dissolve for a short while until he's quickly reminded of the fact that he's hiding something large. Something that could potentially ruin their friendship.Eddie Kaspbrak's life was completely shaken up within a matter of weeks when CPS came knocking on the door of the beat up house in New York that he inhabited. He was whisked away from his abusive mother's grasp quickly and shipped off to a small town called Derry where he met a gorgeous boy called Richie Tozier who seemed more closed off than he'd like to admit.-YEEHAW I SUCK AT WRITING DESCRIPTIONS SORRY. Richie is trans in this, just a head up. Also before y'all yell at me for saying "Transsexual" in this story, I'm trans and I prefer the term. That's why I used it. Alright. That's all.





	1. Trashmouth Tozier

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh, I hate everything I write right now, but I'm just tryna push past it because that's what people should do when they have writer's block and feel like they can't write for shit. Hope you enjoy and if you do, please comment! I live for them. Also this is sort of an angsty and fluffy story?? Very contrasting. I also mainly wrote this so that I could relate to a character because I need someone to relate to atm. So, yeah. ALSO
> 
> Songs for this chapter: 
> 
> Joyriding - Frnk Iero and the Patience 
> 
> Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons
> 
> Boys Will be Bugs - Cavetown

Richie Tozier wasn’t particularly a happy person. As far back as he could remember, something was always distressing him. Whether it be his parents' failing marriage, his lack of friends, or his crippling gender dysphoria, something was always just  _ wrong _ . And as he pushed further and further into his life, the feeling never dissipated. It only got more intense. 

Now, Richie was sitting in math class, slumping down in his seat as he let out a long, deep breath. He was tapping the end of his pencil on a thick, glossy text book. His thoughts drifted from formulas that he couldn’t be bothered to memorize and numbers that he had to squint to read to how his skin felt like it was crawling. To how he couldn’t quite breathe because his binder was constricting his chest too tightly. To how he was surrounded by kids his age, and how, he still felt lonely. 

_ What’s wrong with me? _ He thought briefly, then he shoved the thought from his mind. He didn’t want to open that closet. It was filled to the brim with skeletons.

“Aye, Tozier.”   
  
Richie was pulled from his thoughts abruptly as the girl that sat next to him, Beverly, bumped him. Her lips were curled up into a small, curious smile. She tilted her head, her short, fiery red locks curling around the sides of her face, framing her pale skin perfectly. 

Beverly was cool. She and Richie didn’t really talk all that much, only really in the hallways and when they had projects together in class, so Richie was surprised that she was addressing him now. 

“Yeah?” he replied quietly, his voice low and a bit raspy. He brought a hand up to twist around a few dark curls on his head. He tugged on the ends of some nervously, wondering why she was talking to him. 

“You seem on edge,” she nodded towards him, then slipped a cigarette from the pocket of her shirt. “You need a cig to smoke after class?” Beverly pushed the cigarette his way, hunching over so that the teacher wouldn’t notice. She smiled. 

And sure, Richie wasn’t going to say no to that. His nicotine addiction was awfully expensive to keep up on his own, and he did feel antsy and in need of the feeling of that poisonous smoke trailing down his lungs. 

“Sure,” he said, taking the cigarette from between her fingers carefully. He slid it into the pocket of his pants, giving her a crooked, unsure smile.

“And if you ever need anything, Tozier,” her tongue peeked out from between her bright, white teeth as she grinned at him, winking. Richie’s eyes drifted from one freckle on her cheek, to another on her nose, to another below her eye. “I’m here for you.” She finished by giving Richie a hearty pat on the back, and Richie winced as she did so, feeling a slight sting spread throughout his skin.

Beverly quickly turned back to her work, and Richie tried to do the same, but his thoughts kept drifting off, landing on something far, far away from math. He vaguely wondered if he was going to fail his junior year as he slipped a clammy hand into the pocket where he had stuck the cigarette. He fingered the cancerous stick, running the tip of his index finger down the length of it repeatedly before he rolled it between the pad of his thumb and the palm of his hand. 

The teacher, Mrs. Ellison, was talking in front of the class enthusiastically, pointing at things on the board, erasing angles and redrawing them. Labeling them with letters and numbers that Richie just couldn’t seem to comprehend. He thought he sucked at math, but somehow, he had made it into advanced classes. Not because he tried, though. He reminded himself of that. He didn’t have the will to try. It was probably because God hated him and longed to see him struggle. Probably got his rocks off to it, he thought, then cringed, because what sane person thinks that about  _ God _ .

Mrs. Ellison called on a kid who was eager to answer the question that she had just asked, but before the boy could, a firm knock on the door sounded through the room. Most everyone turned their gaze to stare at the door, Richie included. Something interesting was  _ finally _ happening. 

The teacher grinned broadly, clasping her hands together in excitement. Her loose brown curls bounced as she pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet, then fell back down, her heels clicking harshly against the tile floor of the school. “Class, we have a new student coming in!” 

Some kids perked up, their shoulders pushing up towards the ceiling as they sat up a little more in intrigue. It was rare that someone came to Derry High. The small town was secluded, and usually people only  _ left _ . No one ever came. So it was just that interest peaked in everyone’s mind and bloomed in their skull. Even in Richie’s. 

He raised his eyebrows as Mrs. Ellison rushed over to the door, her brightly coloured dress swaying along with her movements. Behind that door was a small kid. He couldn’t have been more than five feet six inches, Richie thought. His hair was this dark chestnut sort of colour that matched his large, curious eyes which were pools of melted chocolate, scanning the teacher’s face nervously. 

The boy was clad in a soft, dusty pink t-shirt that had a rose embroidered into the top right corner. He was wearing slim fitting light blue jeans. The ends were rolled up so that you could see his pristinely white socks. On his feet were plain black vans. 

Richie scanned the boy once, twice, then a third time before he turned away, wondering how someone could be so put together. He certainly could never achieve that. 

“My name is Eddie,” the small boy---Eddie---stated, and then Richie was looking down at his cuticle, picking at the skin until it turned angry and red. He brought his hand up to nibble at the skin. “Eddie Kaspbrak.” The boy finished, and most of the people in the classroom were still watching him intently. “I’m new here.” 

“Right, yes,” Mrs. Ellison grinned broadly once more. “I’m Mrs. Ellison,” she glanced over her shoulder, scanning the classroom before she returned her gaze back to Eddie. “You can take a seat anywhere you’d like.” 

Eddie nodded in a stiff sort of manner before he shuffled into the classroom, looking unsure of himself. His backpack was a soft grey colour, and it had so many pins and rattling keychains swinging off of it that it jingled as he walked. The only sound that filled the classroom was his gentle footsteps and the keychains clacking against one another. 

Eventually, Eddie took the free seat in front of Beverly. He took a brief gander at his classmates, eyes landing on Richie’s head of messy curls for a split second before he looked up at the board. Mrs. Ellision began shoveling papers and classwork onto his desk, and as she did so, he smiled at her awkwardly. 

Once Eddie was finally settled, Richie found himself looking up at the back of his head. He noticed how the ends of his hair would curl up slightly around the nape of his neck and cradle his ears. The strands looked soft, and they were all brushed neatly and meticulously. Eddie shifted a little in his seat, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He had freckles littered across his arm. Richie looked down at his own pasty arms. Straight, pale scars ran across the skin, abrupt and ugly. He frowned, tracing them for a second. Then, he shoved his hand back into his pocket, beginning to finger the cigarette once more, rolling it between his fingers impatiently. He really needed a good smoke. 

-

Richie was going to be late for his second period, but he really couldn’t quite bring himself to care because he was getting his first nicotine fix for the day and it was  _ heavenly _ . He had snuck out of the school in the commotion of classes changing, and no one noticed him pressed up against the brick wall of the front of the school.

He let his eyes flutter shut as he inhaled the smoke from the cancerous stick. The smoke was thick and harsh, but it stung his lungs in a way that felt so  _ good _ . Smoking was a nasty habit, Richie knew, and he was reminded of this as his only friend, Bill, came running up to him, breathing heavily. 

“S-smoking’s-s bad f-f-for you, y-you kn-kn-ow.” He chided as best as he could through his stutter. 

Richie shrugged, dropping the nub of the cigarette that Beverly had given to him on the ground, smashing it under his foot. “Worse than pining after a boy who’ll never even acknowledge your existence?” Richie fired back with a merciless grin. Oh, how he loved to torture Bill about his everlasting crush on  _ Stan from psych class, _ as Bill so endearingly called him. 

Bill glared, the comment hitting far too close to home than he wanted to admit to Richie. “Wa-a-tch it, T-Trashmouth.” He warned. 

Despite the harshness of Bill’s tone, the smile never left Richie’s face. They were good friends, and had been since middle school when they were both being ripped apart by their peers for the fact that they were a little different. Bill was bi, and so was Richie, but then, there was the whole being a transsexual thing for Richie, too, which made it all a little harder...But nonetheless, the two boys had supported each other through it all.

High school had gotten much easier for the both of them. Rumours about Bill’s sexuality had died off and no one really seemed to care anymore (save for a few asshats who couldn’t keep their mouths shut), and Riche had gone on hormones his freshman year, which stopped a large amount of the harassment. In fact, many of his classmates didn’t even know he was trans, but there were some that held onto that fact and tried to use it against him as best as they could. Whether it be by scrawling slurs across his locker or people pounding on the door of the bathroom stall that he was in, he was never truly free, unlike Bill, who seemed to have escaped the persecution fairly unscaved. He was jealous of that, though he’d never admit it. 

“Right, right,” Richie put his hands up in defense, walking backwards so that he could face Bill who, surprisingly, was a little shorter than him. Since going on testosterone, he had had a massive growth spurt, leaving him towering over most people. 

“We’re lu-lu-late for c-class,” Bill pointed out, “for the _ f-fifth tuh-tuh-time in a r-row _ . Mr. C-Corlette is g-going to t-th-throw us in d-detention along w-w-with all the dru-dru-druggies.” He frowned. 

“Well that works for me!” Richie beamed, watching annoyance etch its way into Bill’s face. He always got a kick out of that. 

“Sh-sh-shut up, T-Tozier,” Bill demanded, shoving his way past Richie. 

The two shuffled into their english class and tried their hardest not to be noticed by the teacher. As Richie made his way to his seat, he noticed that that Eddie kid was in the classroom, too, sitting in the front row in the center of the room. 

“That’s the fifth time, boys,” Mr. Corlette said, not even looking up from his desk to see who was shuffling into the classroom halfway through the lesson.

Bill paled, standing stiffly in his place, the stack of textbooks and papers in his arms pressed firmly to his chest. 

“Bill dropped his stuff in the hallway,” Richie lied smoothly, leaning onto his desk. “It took a long time to reorganize.” 

Mr. Corlette finally raised his gaze to study the two. He looked at a disheveled Bill, blinking for a moment, then he scanned Richie. 

“H-h-honest.” Bill promised. 

The teacher sighed deeply, shaking his head as he removed a pair of glasses from his face, the thin, wiry silver frames glinting under the fluorescent lights of the school. “Richie, you have after school detention from two to five.” He pointed his glasses at the lanky boy. “You better be there.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline in shock, and his mouth fell open a little. 

  
“I smell smoke on you.” Mr. Corlette explained briefly. 

After a moment, Richie took his seat, glaring over at the back of Bill’s head. He wanted to backtrack and take his lie back just so that he could drag Bill down with him. But then, he was too much of a good friend to do so, so he just slumped back into his seat, frowning with his arms crossed tightly. 

-

Detention had dragged on. The whole time, Richie was sitting in his seat, so bored and so utterly helpless. There was nothing to do but glance around the room and wait until the alarm that the teacher had set rang, signalling that his time in prison was over. 

Richie turned to look out of the window that he was sitting by, light poured through it and into the classroom. They were towards the back of the school and this classroom was sitting across from the football field; there was practice today.  He glared at one of the kids that liked to give him a particularly hard time, then watched intently as the guy tripped over his own feet and fell into the grass hard. Richie resisted the urge to laugh, but he couldn’t help the way his lips turned upwards in amusement. 

_ Eat shit, Bowers _ , he thought. 

Soon, the alarm rang, and each student in the classroom stood up, stretching and murmuring happy words, grateful that detention was finally over. Richie started off along with the rest of them, but then, abruptly, his name was called out by the teacher. 

“Tozier!” 

Richie turned around, putting an innocent grin on his face. He liked Mr. Haring, his old english teacher and the detention administrator, and Mr. Haring liked him, too, which is why he was about to chew Richie out for landing himself a spot in detention. 

“Yes…?” Richie turned around, pushing his eyebrows up into his hair. His voice rose with the question. 

“What am I doing seeing you here?” Mr. Haring pressed, pushing back a lock of dark hair that had fallen into his face. His thin lips twisted in an unhappy manner. “You were doing  _ so good _ .” 

Richie shrugged, looking down. He smoothed out a few wrinkles on his black shirt before he met the man’s gaze once more. “I had to have a cig before class,” he said, sucking on his teeth. 

Mr. Haring sighed, rolling his eyes. “Richie, you know as well as I do that that’s not an excuse.”

  
“It is!” Richie defended, his head flying up in offense. His glasses rattled a bit on his face with the sudden movement, so he took a second to push them back into place. “ _ You’ve _ never had a nicotine addiction.  _ You _ wouldn’t know.” 

The teacher’s eyes softened and he pursed his lips, exhaling through his nose. He looked at Richie for a long moment before he relented. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. But I don’t want to you see around here again. Get lost, Tozier.” He smiled slightly, ruffling Richie’s hair before he shoved him towards the door. 

Richie did as he was told, and as he walked home, the wind bit and nipped at his cheeks, tinting them a shade of pink. The weather was getting colder and colder as they veered further and further into the later days of November. Richie shivered, his fingers feeling awfully numb as he dug around in his backpack for a pack of cigarettes. Once he found the box, he fiddled with it for a longsuffering moment, the stiffness of his fingers causing him to almost drop the box altogether. He cursed under his breath, then, finally pulled a thin stick from the packaging. 

He slid the box back into his backpack then pulled out a lighter, holding the cigarette over the flame until the tip glowed orange. With a single inhale, he felt relaxation overtake all of his muscles. He blew a few amateur smoke rings before he glanced over to the side, noticing none other than the new kid sitting under a tree by the sidewalk, a textbook open on his small lap. Papers spilled out of his backpack, and,  _ Damn _ , Richie thought,  _ the teachers sure slammed him.  _

Then, an abrupt yell shattered his thoughts, and he realized that his feet had stopped moving, and he had stopped sucking on his cigarette, and he was staring. Staring at the way the small boy’s pink shirt draped around his torso, and the way his jeans were riding up slightly so that the cuffs at the bottom were all crinkled and pressed up against the grass. His delicate hands were clutching the textbook hard, and he looked pissed. 

“What are you looking at!?” the boy yelled. 

Richie smiled slightly, the expression hanging lazily on his lips. “You, I guess,” he replied before lifting the cigarette back to his lips. 

The boy---Eddie, Richie reminded himself---blinked at him inquisitively for a second, not really knowing what to make of Richie. “Well stop it.” He said firmly, letting his gaze drop back to the textbook.

Richie didn’t move, and he certainly didn’t stop staring. He took another drag of his cigarette. “What’re you doing out here studying? It’s freezing.” Smoke came out of his mouth as he spoke. 

Eddie looked back up, agitation sparking in his eyes. “I can do what I want,” he said, crossing his arms. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s cold out. You look like you’re going to freeze to death.” Richie scanned Eddie. His cheeks were bright red and his hair was mussed up from the wind, strands curling up in all different directions. There was no jacket covering his arms, and if Richie squinted, he could see Eddie just barely suppressing a shiver. 

“What are you? My  _ mom? _ ” the smaller boy quipped before deflating a little. He hunched over, frowning, and yeah, he  _ felt _ like he was freezing to death, but it wasn’t like he was going to admit that. 

Richie rolled his eyes, letting out a soft chuckle. He shed his backpack, letting it fall to the ground, then he rolled his shoulders as he pulled his black denim jacket off of his body, offering it to Eddie with an outstretched hand. The cigarette was hanging between his lips limply, but then it pulled up as he smiled, his eyes flashing with earnesty as they met Eddie’s. 

Eddie looked at him for a couple seconds, confusion making itself apparent on his features before he hesitantly took the jacket. His hands tangled up within the fabric, and he thanked Richie, not quite sure what to make of the situation. 

Richie saluted to him, winking. He picked his backpack back up, and then took a quick puff on his cigarette before he said, “No problem, Eddie!” and turned to walk off.

But before he could, Eddie said, “Wait!” pushing himself up onto his knees, the textbook sliding off of his thighs. “Your name’s...Richie, right?” he asked softly. 

“Sure is,” Richie replied, and he hoisted his backpack further up on his shoulders. 

“Right.” Eddie said. He swallowed. “I’ll see you, Richie.” 

Richie turned to give Eddie one last smile before he walked off, his beat up Converse dragging against the pavement. In his absence, Eddie looked down at the jacket that he had given him, unsure of what to do with it. The scent of cigarette smoke and spicy cologne wafted up from it and Eddie fingered a shiny metal button, running his thumb over it in thought. 

Then, a large gust of wind hit him suddenly, and he found a shiver ripping through his body mercilessly, so he slipped the jacket on, curling in on himself. He swam in the thing. The sleeves reached down all the way past his hands, and the hem at the bottom reached his thighs. He felt a little ridiculous, but the fabric around him was also comforting. It was warm and smelled of Richie, and he’d never admit in a million years that he enjoyed the scent, but he did, which was  _ absolutely _ distressing and  _ absolutely _ embarrassing. 

Eddie willed the blush that had spread over his cheeks at the thought away, frowning tightly as he packed up all of his school supplies. He had gotten halfway through his history homework until Richie had come along. He’d have to do the rest at his foster parent’s house, which he wasn’t too excited about. 

Even though he had only spent a week with them, he could already tell that they were wildly overbearing. Not in the way that Sonya had been---not that bad, no, but in a different clean freak and obsessive sort of way. He thought momentarily about being locked in a dark closet at Sonya’s house, then he thought about changing his bed sheets every single day. 

He exhaled slowly, zipping up his backpack. He pulled at the zippers a little too hard then winced. His life sucked still, just in a different way. He doubted anything would make it better.   
  



	2. Eddie "Eds" Kapsbrak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I Hate this chapter but I'm pushing through my writer's block so here. More to come my friends 
> 
> Songs for this chapter 
> 
> Dear Wormwood - The Oh Hellos
> 
> Ghosting - Mother Mother
> 
> Don't Throw out my Legos - AJR
> 
> Came out Swinging - The Wonder Years

Eddie had fallen asleep wrapped up in Richie’s jacket, curled up into a fetal position, breathing these soft little breaths into the denim. And it was shameful, really, but he couldn’t help it, he told himself. The jacket was really warm and it smelled so nice that he couldn’t help but cradle the excess fabric of the sleeves close to his face as he fell asleep in his bed, his tiny body sinking into the mattress. 

The next morning when his alarm woke him up from his peaceful, dreamless sleep, he jolted, shock stiffening his entire body. After he got used to the sound blaring in his ears, he pulled himself out from under his covers, slamming his alarm clock fiercely. Eddie was  _ not _ a morning person. 

Still wrapped up in the jacket, Eddie pulled his outfit for the day out of his dresser drawer, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he dug through a plethora of pastel shirts. He finally settled on wearing periwinkle one that he had ironed a peach patch onto. He paired it with some faded blue jeans and a pair of pink socks. 

_ Cute _ , Eddie thought, looking down at the outfit that he had come up with as he shuffled out of his room and into the bathroom. He took a thorough shower, making sure every part of his body was lathered with fruity body wash before he rinsed himself off and scrubbed his hair with shampoo of a matching scent. Once he was sufficiently clean, he hopped out of the shower, dried himself off, and shimmied into his clothes. 

He glanced over at Richie’s dark jacket which he had placed carefully on the bathroom counter after he had folded it. Eddie kind of wanted to slip it on again. He kind of wanted to feel its warmth around, but he had self control, so he didn’t.  _ I’m going to return it to Richie today _ , he told himself firmly. 

So the first thing that he did when he arrived in first period that day was walk up to Richie, holding the folded jacket out in his hands. Richie, who had been doodling aimlessly on a piece of lined paper, looked up at him curiously through his black rimmed glasses for a second before a smile spread across his face. Eddie watched the tip of his pink tongue come out to swipe across his bottom lip, and then he noticed something that he  _ swore _ wasn’t there before. 

A black, shiny lip ring. 

Eddie’s mind froze, and he stood there dumbly in front of Richie for far too long before he was finally able to collect his thoughts. The words that spilled out of his mouth weren’t the ones that he had wanted to say, though. “You have a piercing?” he asked, voice rising in pitch. 

Richie laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat, and Eddie watched carefully as his eyes crinkled up at the edges due to the expression. And god, Richie’s smile was so  _ bright _ that he just couldn’t  _ believe it _ . He found himself thinking, somewhere in the back of his mind, that every other smile that he had ever  _ seen _ paled in comparison to Richie’s. 

“It’s new,” Richie explained, “I did it last night.” 

Eddie’s mouth fell open in shock, “You did that  _ yourself _ !? Do you  _ know  _ how dangerous that is!?” 

Richie shrugged, “Well, sure, but---” 

The bell rang just then, cutting Richie off. This shocked Eddie back to his senses and reminded him why he had even approached the taller boy in the first place. 

Eddie shoved the jacket towards Richie, “Here,” he said, his voice tight from thinking about Richie sticking a needle through his lip.

“You can keep it,” Richie leaned down to rifle through his backpack, looking for the math homework that had been assigned the day before. “I’ve got plenty of other jackets, and plus, I wouldn’t want you to catch hypothermia, or something.” 

Eddie studied the one that he was wearing now. His was faux letter and it had scary patches sewn into it. Patches of skulls on fire and skeleton hands holding dead flowers and cigarettes. Of screeching bats with glowing eyes and bottles of poison. And  _ wow _ , Eddie thought,  _ Emily and Steven would totally flip out if they knew that I was talking to someone like Richie _ . 

Hesitantly, Eddie pressed the jacket to his chest. “Are you...sure?” he asked, the words almost catching in his throat. He couldn’t understand for the  _ life of him _ why Richie made him so absurdly nervous, but he did. 

“Yeah, keep it, Eddie.”    
  


Eddie’s heart was glowing at that moment, but he did a good job of concealing his emotions, only letting a small amount of surprise seep into his features at Richie’s sweet tone of voice and inevitable grin. “Thank you, Richie.” 

Richie saluted, much like he had done the day before. “No problem, Eds!” 

Eddie’s brow lowered at the nickname, his mouth tightening. “Don’t call me Eds.” He said tersely, the warmth in his heart melting away quickly. He supposed that it didn’t take much to get under his skin. 

Richie beamed at the irritation that was intertwined in Eddie’s tone. He winked, “Gotcha, Eds.”

Eddie sort of wanted to deck Richie right in the face, then and there, but he also sort of wanted to tuck himself away in Richie’s jacket and fall asleep, enveloped in the warmth that the denim brought.

-

Eddie couldn’t help himself. In second period, he unfolded the jacket and let himself drown in it. He let the sleeves come down over his hands as he slumped down in his chair, pulling his legs up to his chest. He knew he probably looked utterly ridiculous, but there was nothing he could do to stop himself. There was also nothing that he could do to stop himself from thinking about Richie. Stupid Richie and his stupid nicknames and his stupid heartstopping smiles. Oh, and his  _ stupid _ lip ring. Eddie could not be _ lieve _ that he had the audacity to have a  _ lip ring,  _ as if it didn’t make Eddie’s stomach flutter rapidly every time he thought about it. 

“Mr. Kaspbrak!” his history teacher’s shrill voice pulled him from his thoughts. 

Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat. He looked up; he hadn’t noticed that he was zoning out---he scolded himself mentally, responding with a shaky, “Yes?” 

“Your homework.” Mr. Mortesen held out a pale, wrinkly hand expectantly. His sharp blue eyes were watching Eddie sternly, his mouth pulled into a tight, thin line. 

“Ha, right,” Eddie said breathily. “My homework.” The homework that he hadn’t finished because Richie had given him his stupid jacket and he had gotten wildly distracted. “I don’t...have it.” 

The teacher glared, and under the scrutiny, Eddie shrank down, hoping that the world would open and swallow him up right then and there. 

“This is your second day, Edward.” Mr. Mortesen pointed out sternly. “I expected more from you.” 

“Right,” Eddie said, messing with one of the buttons on Richie’s---or, now, his---jacket. “Yesterday was just really scattered for me and all.” He responded, and after a moment of the teacher staring at him pointedly, he relented. 

“I expect it on my desk tomorrow before first period.” 

Eddie resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes. Once the old man was out of sight, he crossed his arms and huffed indignantly. Though, soon he couldn’t find it in himself to be all that upset, because he was turned around in his seat grinning at a boy called Ben that he was working on a worksheet with. 

Ben was nice, funny, and he had even complimented Eddie’s shirt which had made the smaller boy blush furiously as he squeaked out a “thank you.”

Now, the two were leaning over the worksheet, smiling and laughing as they scribbled down definitions and then erased and reworded them, or wrote them in neater writing, knowing that Mr. Mortesen wouldn’t be able to read their chicken scratch. 

“All of this shit is so boring!” Eddie complained, shifting in his seat. 

Ben looked up at him, smiling brightly. His chubby cheeks caused his eyes to get all squinty when the expression pushed its way onto his face. This made Eddie smile, too. He couldn’t believe that he had made a  _ friend _ already. He might’ve made two, even, if Richie counted. Eddie began to pick aimlessly at a thread on the sleeve of the jacket. 

“I know,” Ben mumbled in agreeance, jotting the definition of guerrilla warfare down onto the paper. He flicked his eyes up so that they could meet each other’s gaze, and a smile curled onto his lips. Eddie sort of got the idea that Ben was just as lonely as he was. “But we need this class to pass junior year.” Then, Ben tilted his head up, the smile becoming more apparent, “Hey, maybe we can study together some time.” 

Eddie beamed. “Sure!” 

All too soon, it was time for the two boys to depart from their class and move on to their next period, but they had exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together to study one day soon.

“See ya!” Ben waved at Eddie before disappearing around a corner, leaving Eddie on his way to his english class. 

Eddie smiled to himself the whole way to third block, and the smile stayed on his as he settled down in his seat, excitement buzzing throughout his small body.

Back when he lived in New York, it was awfully hard to make friends. His school was crowded and constantly being flooded with new students, and most people didn’t really have the time to keep up with Eddie Kaspbrak. Those who did only did so out of pity because they were  _ aware of his situation _ , and that sort of sucked worse than having no one. He didn’t want people to hang around him because they felt  _ sorry _ for him. That was just pathetic. 

As Eddie pulled out his english folder, he thought back to that shabby house in New York that he had called home. He thought about his bedroom, which was really just a large walk-in closet with a mattress pushed into the corner. He thought about how he had pretty much got by by eating Top Ramen every other day---Sonia wouldn’t ever get anything else, not even if it was for her own child. 

Eddie was so caught up in his brooding that he hadn’t even noticed Richie trying to address him until he tapped his shoulder. Eddie jumped, stiffening as he let out a little yelp. His head whipped around, eyes wide and full of fear. Sometimes the nightmares all came rushing back to him and he couldn’t help but think that they were repeating. Post traumatic stress is what one psychologist had called it. Eddie didn’t know what it was, all he knew was that he was scared. 

But then...there was nothing to be scared of, because it was just Richie, standing behind him, holding his hands up to show his innocence. Eddie felt a bit ridiculous. 

“Woah, it’s just me, Eds.” Richie scratched the back of his head awkwardly, letting his hand tangle up with his messy black curls.

Eddie was too out of it to scold Richie about the use of that  _ stupid  _ nickname. Too out of it to even respond. He just stared ahead for a long stretch of time, his mouth slightly agape as he dissociated from reality and floated off into an alternate plane of existance where he was still living in New York with Sonia. Fear prickled at the back of his neck. 

Richie’s face contorted with worry, his lips twisting into a frown. He extended a long, gangly limb out reaching for Eddie’s shoulder, stopping a few inches short. “You okay?” 

Eddie nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yeah,” he breathed. Then, blinking away the fear and bad thoughts, he asked, “What?”

“Bill and I were wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with us today,” Richie jabbed a thumb behind him, pointing at a kid who was presumably Bill. Concern was still gracing his features as he spoke. There was this little wrinkle that formed between his brows as he squinted at Eddie through the thick lenses of his glasses. “If you’re up for it.” 

Eddie blinked, “Uh, sure.” 

In response, Richie grinned, and the expression of worry was wiped clean from his face. “Great!” he beamed. “And you look cute today, Eds,” Richie said, reaching forward to mess Eddie’s perfect hair up, leaving the strands sticking up wildly. “Like the jacket on ya.” 

Eddie blushed furiously, his expression darkening into a glower. “Don’t call me Eds!” he protested. 

Richie simply laughed at his petulant expression. “Sure thing, Eds!”

-

Richie was too pretty for his own good. Eddie decided as he watched Richie tilt his head backwards as he erupted in laughter, his lips parting slightly as he grinned. He watched as Richie’s tongue flick out to run over his lip ring, and  _ damn _ , that lip ring was making it really hard for Eddie to convince himself that he was straight. And that was something that he  _ really  _ needed to do because he  _ really  _ didn’t feel like getting shit for being into guys.

“You’re staring, Eddie,” Richie said, laughter bubbling in his throat, painting his tone with light and happiness. He jabbed Eddie’s side with his elbow. 

“Right,” Eddie said, because he was. 

“But that’s okay, I don’t mind,” Richie continued, winking. 

Eddie flushed, his face heating up in embarrassment, “Fuck off,  _ Richie _ !” 

From across the lunch table, Bill peered at Eddie curiously, smiling slightly. 

  
“So why’d you move here, Eddie?” he asked politely, brushing a few strands of auburn hair from his face. 

“Uh, my dad got a job offer here. It was high paying, so he took it,” he lied quickly, trying to quell the anxiety that, no doubt, was making itself known through his expression. 

“A high paying job here? In Derry? What’s he do?” Bill pressed.

“Well...I’m not really sure…” Eddie shifted in his seat, wringing his hands. His gaze dropped to his feet and he hunched down on himself, trying to make himself disappear into the jacket that Richie had given him. 

“Well---” Bill began again. 

And god, Richie was thinking, Bill could be so fucking dense sometimes. “Hey, Eds, wanna hang out after school?” he cut in, causing Eddie to look up at him, eyes wide. Curiosity was present within them, but also a heavy sadness. 

“Sure,” Eddie replied softly, letting the sleeve of his jacket fall over his hands. “I’ll have to ask my p---” his breath hitched in his throat, cutting him off. “Parents.” He finished limply. 

Under the gazes of Richie and Bill, he deflated a little. Being ripped from his abusive mother’s grasp by Child Protective Services and then shipped off to Maine was taking a toll on him ( _ who wouldn’t that take a toll on? _ Eddie thought vaguely) and he just wished that everyone around him understood. 

Things weren’t easy. 


	3. I'm Reckless For You (AKA Eddie Gets His Lip Pierced)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!!!!!!! I hope you guys are enjoying the story. Comments are most appreciated. 
> 
> Songs for this chapter are 
> 
> Lemon Boy - Cavetown 
> 
> When the Day Met the Night - Panic! At The Disco

Upon arriving home, Eddie had promptly called his foster father to tell him about Richie and how he asked if he could hang out after school. Steven eagerly inquired about the lanky boy, and Eddie described him willingly, but he left out the fact that he had a piercing and wore jackets with scary patches and ripped jeans. After a good few minutes of convincing, Steve had given Eddie his blessing; he could hang out with Richie.

Once Eddie hung the phone up he felt anxiety flutter around in his stomach. It was sad, but he had never hung out with anyone before. He wondered what it entailed and if there was a way to do it wrong---and if there  _ was _ , then he surely  _ would  _ do something wrong. 

Then, sparing the clock above the oven a quick glance, he groaned, realizing that he was already  _ late _ . Richie had requested that he meet him by the oak tree near the path at 3:30. It was now 3:36.

_ Nice going,  _ Eddie thought to himself spitefully. 

He made quick work of getting to the oak tree, but not before his asthma could overtake him and he had to stop a few feet short to double over and pat himself down, looking for his inhaler. When he realized that he didn’t have it on him, he let out a terse curse. 

“Eddie! Holy shit, are you okay?” Richie asked, jogging up to Eddie. He rested his hand on Eddie’s back, leaning down so that he could peer up at him through the lenses of his glasses. 

Eddie’s face was bright red as he gasped for air, struggling to breathe properly. “I-I’m---” he choked out, “Asthma---” he cut himself off once again, but the words that he did spit out seemed to register some amount of understanding in Richie’s mind. 

“Shit! Do you have an inhaler with you?”

Eddie shook his head, gasping for air. His body fucking sucked. Like, seriously, he couldn’t go for a light run without it trying kill him?

“Right,” Richie said. His voice wavered with a slight amount of nervousness. Gently, he took ahold of Eddie by his wrist and led him over to the tree, sitting him down on the damp grass that had been graced with dew. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Eddie shook his head. He just needed to learn how to breathe again, that’s all, no big deal. 

After a long seven minutes of wheezing, Eddie finally was able to get his breathing under control. Still, though, his face was bright red from the asthma attack, and it was glowing even brighter from embarrassment. There  _ was _ a way to mess up hanging out, and he had just done it. God, his lungs were so  _ stupid _ . 

“Are you alright now?” Richie asked after silence hung in the air for a good few seconds. 

Eddie nodded quickly. “Sure am.” He croaked out, tilting his head up to look at Richie, and then  _ god _ , his breath was stolen right from his lungs once more. 

Despite it being a cool day, the sun was still very much present, beaming down on the earth brightly. Richie’s mop of curls was graced by the golden light. It painted the edges of his hair, giving him the appearance of a heavenly halo. He was smiling down on Eddie earnestly, the edges of his lips curling up into this  _ soft _ expression that just melted Eddie’s heart. 

“Eddie,” Richie said suddenly, snapping his fingers in Eddie’s face. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?” 

Eddie glared, “God, you’re so  _ annoying,  _ Richie!” he shoved the other boy, and in return, Richie let out a surprised giggle. 

“But you love it,” Richie grinned, pushing back against Eddie playfully. 

“ _ No!” _

“ _ Yes!” _ Richie mocked in a high pitched, squeaky voice.

The shoving and banter continued for a good few minutes before both of the boys were out of breath and laying with their backs pressed against the ground. A comfortable silence fell upon the two, and then Richie smiled up towards the sky and rolled over on his side to look at Eddie. Eddie with his pastel outfits, all wrapped up in Richie’s jacket that was a good few sizes too big for him. 

And  _ god _ , Eddie was so endearing. Eddie who didn’t know that Richie was trans, who hadn’t noticed his binder peeking out from under his shirts or the fact that he was constantly trying to slump down to hide his body. Eddie who didn’t know that Richie was different and Eddie who could very well be transphobic. 

Richie frowned. It wasn’t fair that these thoughts had to occupy his mind. Other people didn’t think like this when they made a new friend, but then, other people didn’t have to give themselves weekly testosterone shots, and other people didn’t have nightly breakdowns, and they didn’t make impulsive and erratic decisions.    
  
Eddie rolled over on his side, too, meeting Richie’s gaze. “Let’s play a game.” He suggested firmly. 

“Seven minutes in heaven?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows, laughing as Eddie punched his shoulder lightly. 

“No.” Eddie rolled his eyes, “Twenty-one questions.” 

Richie rolled back over onto his back, squinting at the sun. He hoped Eddie couldn’t see the anxious expression on his face. “Why?” 

“So I can get to  _ know _ you. What, are you hiding something?” Eddie smiled, jabbing Richie in the side. 

Richie squirmed for a moment, his lips turning down into a frown.

Eddie blinked, “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” he offered, noticing the abrupt shift in Richie’s demeanor. 

“No, no,” the dark haired boy crossed his arms, letting out a long breath. “It’s okay. I want to play.” 

Eddie didn’t quite believe him. He squinted skeptically at Richie before he rolled onto his back like the other boy had a few moments prior. “Okay, I’ll start. Did it hurt?” 

“When I fell from heaven?” Richie filled in cheekily.

“ _ No _ , when you pierced your lip, dumbass.”

Richie’s brow furrowed, he had expected Eddie to ask something much more personal, but this way okay. “Yeah, but not much. It mostly felt like pressure.” 

“I kind of want my lip pierced,” Eddie informed. Richie wasn’t quite sure how this information was relevant to the game, but that was okay, because the thought of Eddie with a lip piercing was...well, hot, to put it bluntly. 

“I could pierce it for you.” Richie offered, “I have supplies left over.”    
  
“Yeah right, like I’d let you do that,” Eddie said, but he looked like he was genuinely considering it. 

“Well, the offer is on the table, Eds. And plus, I think a piercing would suit you.” 

“You do?” Eddie turned to look at him, adoration flashing in his chocolatey eyes. 

“Sure thing.” 

“Okay, then.”    
  
Richie’s eyebrows were pushed together in confusion. “What?”   
  


“I want you to pierce my lip.” 

-

Richie’s house provided relief from the cold outside. As soon as the two stepped into the structure, the warmth hit them, wrapping them up in an invisible blanket. Eddie shivered at the change of pace, glancing around. 

“The place is a mess,” Richie said, shrugging, and yeah, Eddie thought, it totally was. “My mom and I can barely keep up with things.” And he laughed, but it was dry and humourless. 

The two trekked up to Richie’s room, and just as Richie was about to push the door open, his breath hitched and his eyes went wide. 

“Say, Eds,” he pressed his back up against the door, “let me just slip in a clean up at bit.” And so he did just that, closing the door quickly behind him. 

Richie’s room mirrored the rest of the house. Things were strewn about chaotically, but that wasn’t really what he was worried about. He looked down at one of his binders that he had tossed on the floor the night before. God, he couldn’t believe that he was about to let Eddie walk into his room when there was evidence  _ everywhere _ that he wasn’t cis. 

He grabbed the binder, shoving it into one of his dresser drawers. Then, he grabbed a Trans Pride pin that Bill had given to him a couple weeks back and shoved it into his pocket. With sloppy movements, he tore down the pink, white, and blue flag that he and his mom had put up on the wall above his bed after he got his first shot of testosterone. He’d have to explain to her later why he took it down. 

After putting away a few more things and shoving a mound of clothes into his laundry hamper, he finally let Eddie into his room, letting out a relieved breath. Then, motioning inside he said, “Welcome to my humble abode.”    
  
Eddie smiled slightly, eyeing the band posters that were tacked up onto the walls. “Taking Back Sunday sucks, you know,” he informed, pushing past Richie.

Richie’s mouth dropped open in offense. “Hey, fuck you, Kaspbrak.”

While Eddie glanced around his room in intrigue, Richie dug his piercing supplies out from under his bed. “I’m not gonna pierce you with a ring,” he informed, causing Eddie to pout. Richie turned to look at him, smiling at his expression. “It irritate the fresh piercing and set it back healing-wise.”    
  
“But you pierced yourself with a ring,” Eddie pointed out, sitting down on Richie’s bed. He sunk into the soft mattress for a moment before he fell backwards, letting out a sigh. There were more posters on the ceiling. 

“That’s because I don’t  _ care _ .” 

“Well, I don’t care either.” 

Richie laughed, the mirth light and bubbly. “Yes you do. But even if you didn’t,  _ I do _ , and I’m the one piercing you.” 

“Whatever,” Eddie replied petulantly. Crossing his arms tightly across his chest.    
  
Once Richie was ready, he opened up the makeup bag that he had bought to store his supplies and sat Eddie down on the floor, his back pressed up against his bed. 

“What side do you want it on?” Richie questioned, pulling a small mirror and a pen from the bag. 

“Opposite of yours.” 

“Cool,” Richie said, and then there was that smile again. And  _ god,  _ it just made Eddie’s stomach erupt with butterflies. 

He watched carefully as Richie placed a mark with the pen just under his lip. He brought a mirror up to Eddie’s face and asked him if he liked the placement, and Eddie nodded. He couldn’t believe that he was doing this. 

Richie held out a small heart shaped box that held a large amount of rings and studs. “Pick a stud, would ya, Eds? And take a ring, too, so you can change it when it’s all healed.” 

“Okay,” Eddie picked through the jewelry, finding a sparkly stud that he thought was cute. He also picked out a simple silver ring. “How long does it take to heal?”

“If you treat it right, seven weeks on average.” Richie told him, pulling a fifteen gauge needle from the makeup bag. He held it up to Eddie’s face, right between his eyes. “This is going through your lip,” he teased, grinning. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Fuck off.” 

Richie’s smile widened. He shoved a small bottle of mouthwash towards him, telling him to go to the bathroom that was attached to Richie’s room to gurgle it. Once Eddie was back and sitting in front of him, he cleaned the exterior of Eddie’s lip with rubbing alcohol. Then, he slid sterile gloves onto his hands and took the stud from Eddie so that he could soak it in alcohol. 

“To sterilize it,” Richie explained, dropping the jewelry in the pool of pungent smelling liquid. 

Eddie blinked, watching Richie carefully. He really seemed to have an affinity for piercings. “Is this what you want to do when you grow up?”    
  
Richie’s brows pulled together, his forehead wrinkling in the process. “Be a piercer? No, it’s just something I like to do. I guess I’m good at it, though.”    
  
“Have you ever pierced anyone besides yourself?” Eddie eyed the needle, gulping. It was hollow and sharp, and  _ fuck _ , it was huge. 

“Yeah, I pierced Bill once. Pierced his nose, but his mom got mad and he had to take it out.” He snickered, pulling a pair of clamps from its packaging. Then, glancing up, he noticed the anxiety that was seeping onto Eddie’s features. “Are you sure you want to do this?”   
  
Eddie nodded firmly. Sure, he thought, why not. Even if Richie managed to fuck it up monumentally, he was sure that his life certainly couldn’t get any worse. 

“Alright, I’ll make it quick. In and out, no blood, no tears.” Richie promised, putting the clamp on Eddie’s lip, tightening it. 

And Richie fulfilled that promise. He pushed the needle through quickly and swiftly, then followed through with the stud as he pulled it back out. And then it was over, and Richie was right, it didn’t really hurt. He picked up the small mirror that was sitting next to Richie on the carpeted floor and looked at himself in intrigue. And Richie was right again, because it did suit him. He smiled slightly. 

“Do ya like it, Eds?” 

“Yeah!” Eddie replied, enthused. Then, his excited demeanor fell away as he scolded Richie for using that nickname. 

“Oh, but it rolls off the tongue so well,” Richie said through a toothy smile. 

Soon, the two boys were sprawled out on Richie’s bed, picking up where they left off on their game of twenty-one questions. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” Richie asked, spreading his arms out wide, letting them flop over Eddie. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, shoving Richie’s arms away. “Green.” He answered quickly. “What’s your favourite animal.”

  
Richie took a moment to think, tapping his chin in the process. “Cats are pretty cool. Also birds,” he shrugged as best as he could with his back against the bed. “What was New York like?”

“Fine.” Eddie swallowed. He felt that Richie was getting closer and closer and soon he’d be pressing and urging, ripping Eddie open to expose and all of the things that he was hiding. Eddie thought for a moment, racking his brain for another question that he could ask Richie, but his mind was blank. Anxiety was sweeping over him mercilessly. “I should go,” he said quickly. 

Richie sat up, and Eddie mirrored his actions. “It’s only four-thirty. You can stay a little longer?” Richie asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

Eddie shook his head. “Sorry, Richie.”   
  
Richie frowned. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Eddie forced a smile, “I’ll see you.”


	4. Let Me Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No songs for this chapter sadly OWO 
> 
> excuse any typos

Richie, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out what the hell he’d done wrong or why the hell Eddie had left so abruptly, but surely, it had to be his fault. The night was growing near, and he was lying on his bed where Eddie had sat just a few hours before, and he was thinking about Eddie and his hair that looked so soft, and his eyes that were always so wide and curious, and the little stud that he had placed just under his lip. 

Eddie was beginning to consume his every thought, and he couldn’t help it, though he wished that he could.  _ Jesus _ , Richie thought, exasperated,  _ I’m like a schoolgirl with a crush.  _

His mother cracked open his bedroom door, pulling him swiftly from his reverie. 

“Richie?” she asked, peering through the slight opening in the bedroom door. The room was dark. Her eyes darted around it. “Are you in there?”    
  
“Yeah, ma,” Richie replied, staring up at the ceiling. He squinted, and in the dark, the ceiling was buzzing and moving rapidly. 

Mrs. Tozier smiled slightly, flicking the lightswitch next to the door. “What’re you doing sitting in the dark?” then her eyes rose to see the empty space where Richie’s trans pride flag had once hung. Her face fell, “Are you okay, honey?” 

“I met a boy,” Richie said, ignoring her question. He swallowed. 

Mrs. Tozier’s brow furrowed. “A nice boy?” 

“Yeah,” he began to fiddle with his lip ring even though he knew that he shouldn’t. It would surely be sore the next day. “But he doesn’t know about me.” 

“Richie…”   
  
“So I had to hide everything.” 

A frown played Mrs. Tozier’s lips as she walked over to Richie’s bed, sitting on the edge. “Do you think he would accept you?” she hated that she even had to ask her son these questions. The thought of someone rejecting him for something that he couldn’t help sent shockwaves and aches through her heart. 

“I’m not sure,” Richie admitted flatly. “But he’s so great, ma.”   
  
Mrs. Tozier’s lips turned upwards slightly into a sad sort of smile. She reached out to pick a piece of lint off of the jeans that Richie was wearing, “What’s his name?” 

“Eddie,” Richie informed. “He’s really short, and he wears all these soft colours.” Everytime Richie blinked, he could see Eddie behind his eyelids, smiling, laughing, wrapped up in Richie’s old denim jacket. “He moved here from New York.” 

“Eddie…” Mrs. Tozier thought aloud. “You mean the kid that the Conway’s are fostering?” 

Richie pushed his head up, dark curls falling over his glasses. He could just barely see his mother’s expression through the strands of hair. Confusion fell over his features. “What?”

“I was talking to Emily at work a few days ago. She said that she and Steven had finally been approved to foster and had a kid coming their way.” She paused thinking, remembering. “Eddie Kaspbrak.” 

Richie thought back to how Eddie had choked on the word “parents” when he asked him to hang out and how uncomfortable he had gotten when Bill had asked about why he moved, and it sort of all made sense. “Oh.” Richie said. “I didn’t know.” 

“He probably didn’t tell you for a reason.” Mrs. Tozier sighed. “I really shouldn’t have even  _ told _ you.” 

“Well, things make a little more sense now.”    
  
“They do?”

“I asked him about New York and he got all weird and bailed on me,” Richie explained. 

“He probably came from a rough situation, honey.” Mrs. Tozier patted Richie’s leg, standing up. She looked down on her son fondly, “I’m glad you made friends with him. Emily said he was quite shy and introverted.” 

Richie could’ve laughed. Shy and introverted his  _ ass _ . He thought briefly about the times that Eddie had so passionately told him to  _ fuck off _ , and then he did laugh a little. “I’ll put the flag back up, ma, don’t worry.” He said through a small smile. 

Mrs. Tozier nodded before she turned to walk out of Richie’s room, and before she did, she flicked the lights back off, returning Richie to the dark. 

-

Richie got lucky. Beverly had generously slipped him a couple of joints in first period, promising him that it was good weed that hadn’t been laced. 

“I just don’t need them anymore.” She had explained. “I was gonna get high tonight, but my plans changed, and you look like you need a good smoke.” 

Richie had taken the joints gratefully, thanking her as he did so, because the moment that he had woken up that morning, he knew that he either needed to get high or smashed if he was going to be able to make it through the day. Dysphoria was a motherfucking  _ bitch _ . 

Beverly had been right, though. The weed wasn’t laced, and it  _ was _ good, so within no time, Richie was high as a kite. And sure, he still felt like he wanted to rip his skin off, and  _ sure,  _ he still sort of wanted to jump off of a cliff. But at least he could find it within himself to laugh about those things instead of wanting to burst into tears. 

“H-hey! Tra-Tra-Trashmouth!” 

Richie turned around, raising his eyebrows as his eyes settled on Bill, who was rushing towards him. Eddie was trailing behind him. 

“Bill!” Richie exclaimed, a grin spread across his face. “Fancy seeing you here!” 

“M-Mr. Corl-l-lette s-sent us t-t-to look f-for y-y-ou.” Bill said firmly. He looked sort of pissed. “H-he’s tired o-f y-you s-skipping cla-cla-class to s-smoke.” 

“‘M not  _ just _ smoking,” Richie took a long drag from the joint. “‘M gettin’  _ high _ .” Smoke poured out of his mouth as he spoke. 

“Richie!” Eddie glared at the joint that was hanging limply from between Richie’s fingers.

“Yes, m’dear?” Richie leaned back against the wall, smiling in a slothful manner. There Eddie was, standing in front of him with this petulant look on his face, staring up at Richie with these  _ huge  _ brown saucers of eyes that he was trying to make hard, but that were soft and  _ so endearing _ . His hands were balled up into little fists that were just barely peeking out of the long sleeves of that denim jacket that didn’t go with any of his outfits, but that he wore anyway.

There was this slight amount of guilt pooling in the pit of Richie’s stomach, and he thought vaguely,  _ I know what you don’t want me to know,  _ but then that guilt and that thought was swept away by the want---no, the  _ need _ \---to reach out and mess Eddie’s hair up. 

He ran his fingers through the soft locks, smiling brightly as Eddie swatted at his hand. 

“How fucking  _ high  _ are you!?” Eddie vocerated as he tried in vain to fix his hair. 

Richie simply giggled. 

“H-holy s-shit.” Bill said in disbelief. “W-we can’t bri-bri-bring him b-back to cl-cl-class l-like t-this.” 

“Well that’s good,” Richie clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “because I don’t want to go to class.” 

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie said tersely. 

“Why don’t you make me.”    
  
Eddie rolled his eyes, and then oh, there was that urge to deck Richie in the face again. He plucked the joint from between Richie’s fingers and dropped it to the concrete ground, smashing it under his shoe. “Why the  _ fuck  _ are you getting high right now?” 

“Because I’m  _ sad _ ,” Richie stated as though it was obvious. He pulled the second joint that Beverly had given him from his pocket and lit it quickly. 

Most all of the anger had disappeared from Bill’s features. “W-why di-di-didn’t y-you t-talk t-t-to o-one of u-us?” he tilted his head, frowning, but he already knew the answer, so there was really no reason to ask the question.    
  
The tall boy shrugged, turning his head to look off to the side. He didn’t like it when Bill got all concerned and caring on him. He didn’t feel worthy of it. “This is easier,” he admitted lowly, bringing the joint to his lips. 

Silence fell between the three for a long stretch of time, and Eddie couldn’t help but notice the downward turn of Richie’s lips, and how he was nervously tapping his free hand against his thigh at a rapid pace. His hair was falling into his face, long and unkempt, and there was this sadness that was muddying up his features. Eddie didn’t like this version of Richie. 

-

Neither Bill nor Eddie had anticipated skipping class with Richie, but it had happened. They hadn’t expected to get high either, but that had happened, too. 

For Eddie, it was the first time that he had ever smoked  _ anything _ , so it took awhile before he was able to inhale the smoke without bursting into a coughing fit. And it was all a bad idea, he knew. Skipping class would certainly land him in some hot water with Steven and Emily, and if they knew that he had smoked  _ weed _ ...well…

“Careful, Eds.” Richie said as Eddie passed the joint to Bill. “Wouldn’t want cha to have an asthma attack.” 

Eddie glanced over him with a flat look. “Shut up, Richie.”   
  
Richie laughed, “Wow, he’s a feisty one, isn’t he, Bill?” 

“Sure is,” Bill agreed, looking out onto the view.

Richie and Bill had led Eddie to the quarry and now they were sitting right on the edge of the cliff, just above the large drop. Normally, Eddie would’ve been scrambling away from the ledge, but he was high, so he supposed that he didn’t have to be so anal. 

“What’re we gonna tell Mr. Corlette?” Eddie questioned, ignoring Richie’s comment. 

“Richie was sad,” Bill offered, but even high they all knew that that idea was shit. 

“I was having a therapy joint.” Richie joked, but then his expression grew serious. “Wait, isn’t that a thing?” 

“No, dumbass,” Eddie punched him in the shoulder. 

“Be  _ nice  _ to me,  _ Edward _ .” 

The conversation stopped for a good few minutes as the boys finished up the joint, Bill getting the final drag before there was nothing left to smoke, and even once it was all gone, none of them knew what to say. It felt like there was something heavy in the air that they everyone refused to acknowledge, but Eddie didn’t quite know where this heaviness stemmed from. 

Then, Richie slumped over, tugging at the hem of his shirt as he frowned. Bill reached over, wrapping a protective arm around him, and in response, Richie laid his head gently against Bill’s chest. And for some reason, seeing Richie like this made Eddie’s heart  _ ache _ in a way that he couldn’t quite describe. 

“You d-don’t want to talk a-b-bout it?” Bill asked gently, and Eddie noticed that in the calm moment, his stutter had nearly disappeared. 

“I do,” Richie said softly, and then he leaned up to whisper something in Bill’s ear, and Bill nodded. 

Eddie felt a little like an outsider, then, like he was observing the two other boys from through a lense, and he was somewhere far away and distant. But the feeling didn’t last long before Richie stretched out an arm to wrap it around Eddie and pull him into the warm embrace. 

“Couldn’t leave my Eds out,” he mumbled into Bill’s chest, eyes closed. “My Eddie,” and then he paused before giggling slightly. “My Eddie Spaghetti,” he finished, and Eddie glared. 

“Your nicknames  _ suck _ ,” Eddie said, but he was finding it really hard be irritated when he was wrapped up in the warmth that was Richie Tozier, his cheek pressed to the crook of Richie’s neck. And then, there was that smell again. Cigarettes and cologne, but with something new; the sweetness of marijiuana. 

Soon, the boys untangled themselves from the embrace and Richie suggested that they take a trip to the bridge. 

“The bridge?” Eddie asked, shivering from the sudden lack of warmth. 

“Y’know,” Richie smiled, and his hair was falling into his eyes so much so that Eddie felt hot irritation spike within him; he couldn’t properly see Richie’s eyes as he spoke. “The Kissing Bridge,” Richie finished. 

Eddie shook his head, “I  _ don’t  _ know.” 

The walk to the bridge was a tad bit miserable, because as the day went on, the colder and colder things got. Even wrapped up in that denim jacket, Eddie struggled to maintain a normal body heat. 

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie cursed under his breath, and he blinked, his eyes feeling swollen and puffy. He reckoned that he looked as high as he felt. 

“What’s’up, Eds?” Richie asked, pulling a cigarette from out of the pocket of his jeans. 

“I’m cold, is all,” Eddie replied, watching Richie light the cigarette and inhale deeply. “You’re killing your lungs with all the smoking you do.” He informed, and Richie just shrugged. Then he smirked, blowing a cloud of smoke in Eddie’s direction, beaming at how Eddie griped at him in response. 

“Quit it, asshole!” the smaller boy yelled, kicking Richie hard in the shin. 

“Bill! Bill! Help!” Richie flailed, throwing himself over Bill, who looked wholly unamused by the scenario. 

Once they arrived at the bridge, Eddie noticed the immense amount of carvings that had been scratched into the wood. In awe, he ran his fingers over various letters and names, feeling his heart swell.  _ This is where people come to express their love _ , he thought, smiling softly,  _ how sweet. _ But his musing was cut short as his eyes fell upon a particularly crude carving. 

_ FAGS GET OUT OF DERRY  _

It felt like someone had kicked Eddie hard in the stomach and knocked all of the wind out of him. And then tears were pricking his eyes and he couldn’t fucking  _ breathe _ . The world went hazy for a long moment and then warm hands were steadying him, keeping him from toppling over. 

“W-where’s y-y-y-your i-inhaler?” Bill’s voice cut through the panic. 

“My pocket,” Eddie wheezed out, and then his eyes connected with Richie’s that were deep with worry. Eddie wondered for a second if Richie would still worry if he knew that he was gay, then he pushed the thought from his mind quickly, deciding that he didn’t really need to upset himself further. 

The inhaler was lifted to his lips, and soon medicine was entering his lungs, and he could breathe again. 

“Jesus Eds, don’t scare me like that,” Richie said, scratching the back of his neck. His brows were pulled together in concern. 

“Maybe we should go back.” Suddenly, Eddie felt uneasy. He didn’t want to be at the Kissing Bridge, and he didn’t want to be with Richie and Bill, and he didn’t want to be high. He wanted to go home and cry and scream into his pillow because he was so  _ gay.  _ It didn’t matter how much tried to convince himself otherwise. He just  _ was _ , and clearly, his kind was not wanted in Derry. 

  
  



	5. I'm Falling For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie is a depressed motherfucker OWO
> 
> Songs UWU
> 
> Weak At The Knees - Have Mercy
> 
> Cough It Out - The Front Bottoms
> 
> High Definition - Waterparks

The trio ended up going to Richie’s house since suddenly showing back up at their classes wouldn’t really bode well for them. As soon as the boys walked through the door, Bill and Richie ended up making a b-line for the kitchen, leaving Eddie in the dust for a moment while he took a few seconds to catch up. 

“Are you hungry for anything, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie asked, pulling the door to a large, snack filled pantry open. “I’ve got the  _ munchies _ .” 

Eddie blinked. He hadn’t even realized it, but he  _ was _ hungry for something. He didn’t know what, though, so he just shrugged and told Richie that he could pick something out for him as he walked into the kitchen. Within seconds, a bag of Lays potato chips was being launched directly into his face. 

“Richie!” Eddie glared at Richie and Bill who, upon the bag hitting Eddie’s face, burst out laughing. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Richie held his hands up in innocence, and in response, Eddie threw the bag back at him. Hard. 

So hard that it knocked Richie’s glasses to the floor, which caused one of the lenses to crack. 

“Holy shit, Spaghetti!” Richie exclaimed as he picked the newly broken glasses up from the kitchen floor. Bill erupted with even more laughter, then, and Eddie felt his face heat up with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry!” he squeaked out, distress painting his tone.

Richie simply smiled, “It’s okay, Eds.” He said, slipping the glasses back onto his face, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t.

After a good few minutes of Eddie apologizing and Richie assuring him that, really, he liked his glasses better broken, the boys tore into their snacks, and Eddie didn’t think that he’d ever tasted  _ anything _ better than those plain Lays potato chips. When he voiced this though, both Richie and Bill broke out in laughter, amusement flashing in their eyes. 

“ _ What _ ?” he asked indignantly. 

“You’re so high!” Richie said as laughter bubbled from his throat. 

Eddie blinked, then shrugged. “I bet.” He mumbled, shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth. 

-

The end of the day was drawing near, and Eddie was sad that he had to leave Richie and Bill behind, but he had to get home to his foster parents and pretend that he had been at school all day. He also had to finish some of his homework. Yeah, he had spent the day skipping with Richie and Bill, but he still cared about his grades. 

But then, just as he was halfway out of the front door of Richie’s house, his feet stopped, and yelled, “Wait!” which served to startle the two boys that had been watching him depart. 

“What?” Richie asked, tilting his head to the side curiously. A large, dark curl flopped into his face, laying atop the clear glass of his lense, blocking one of his eyes from Eddie’s view. 

Eddie frowned at the lock of hair, feeling the urge to move it out of the way so he could properly see Richie’s face, but he didn’t. Instead he balled his hands into fists and held them down at his sides. “I can’t go home like this! I smell like weed!” 

Richie laughed at the revelation. “You’re right.” He returned his head to an upright position, and more strands of hair fell into his face. For a moment he looked thoughtful, then he grabbed Eddie’s wrist, pulling him back into the house, leaving the door hanging wide open as the two climbed up the stairs leading to the second floor. 

“Richie,” Eddie whined, unsure of what was happening. 

“Relax, Eds. I’ve got a solution.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

And then Richie was ripping t-shirts from his dresser drawers, looking for one that would be small enough for Eddie’s tiny body. He pulled one out, eyeing it. He wore the thing all the time before he started testosterone, so it was too small for him now, and it looked like it would  _ mostly  _ fit Eddie, which meant that it was the best option. 

“Here,” he said, throwing the shirt in Eddie’s direction. 

Eddie looked down on the piece of clothing stretching it out in his hands so that he could scan the fabric. The album artwork from Green Day’s  _ American Idiot _ stared back at him, and his face contorted with unease. “I can’t wear this! My parents will know it’s not mine and freak out!” 

Richie threw Eddie a mildly annoyed look from over his shoulder. “Alright, alright,” he sighed, then thought briefly about how Eddie hadn’t stuttered on  _ that _ word like he had last time. He wondered how taxing it must be to pretend like that, but then, he was pretending a lot, too, so he guessed he and Eddie were even. 

Something pastel and soft caught Richie’s eye, then, and as he reached to pull it out of his drawer, memories flooded back into his mind. 

_ “I d-dare you,” Bill grinned, lifting the plastic straw of his slushie to his mouth.  _

_ Richie grinned right back, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He grabbed the shirt, eyeing it in consideration. It was a dusty lilac colour, and there was a pocket on the right side of it where Hello Kitty was peeking over the top.  _

_ “I think it’s cute,” Richie said, and he did, but there was no way in hell he would wear it, he was thinking, that is until Bill bet him.  _

_ “I bet you fifty bucks to wear it school for a week straight,” he said, and then Richie was walking swiftly towards the checkout counter, pulling two crisp bills from his pocket: A twenty and a ten.  _

_ Bill looked at little shocked then at Richie’s determination, but after a moment the feeling faded away and he broke out into a wide smile, shaking his head.  _

_ “You’re about to owe me fifty bucks, Denbrough.”  _

Richie blinked the memory away. He hadn’t worn the shirt since that week. Not since he had slipped a fifty dollar bill into the back pocket of his jeans, laughing at Bill who didn’t believe that he would follow through. The shirt made him dysphoric, so he had shoved it deep down into one of his drawers and forgotten about it...until now. 

It looked like such an Eddie thing to wear, which was funny to Richie. He let out a little laugh before twisting his body around so that he could hold it up in all of its pastel glory.    
  
Eddie’s eyes lit up, and childlike excitement was cast onto his face for a quick second before he tucked it away. But Richie still saw it, and his heart still fluttered wildly at the expression and then,  _ god _ , Richie was thinking,  _ how could someone be so adorable? _

“That’ll work,” Eddie said, smiling softly. 

“Great,” Richie tossed him the shirt. “And you can keep it, too.” He added, causing Eddie to quirk an eyebrow. 

“Do you get off on giving me your clothes, or something?”    
  
Richie choked on air for a moment, the comment wholly unexpected. He coughed into his elbow awkwardly, then turned back to his drawers, pushing clothing down so that he could close them. “No,” he mumbled, his cheeks heating up, and since when did  _ Eddie _ make  _ him _ blush? “I only bought it for a bet with Bill,” and the words  _ it makes me dysphoric to put on _ were caught in his throat. 

“Alright, whatever,” Eddie mumbled, and then he was shaking his jacket from his body and pulling off his shirt so that he could slip the one that didn’t smell like cannabis on. At the same time, though, Richie was turning around, completely unprepared to be met with a disheveled, shirtless Eddie. 

His breath was caught in his throat as he inadvertently flicked his eyes down to Eddie’s pale torso. The skin was completely flawless except for a few scars that littered his chest. Richie was sure that if Eddie was sober, he would’ve scolded him for staring, but instead, Eddie was just looking back at him, a little dazed and confused. 

“What?” he asked. 

Richie blinked, turning away. “Nothing,” he said weakly. He pushed himself up from the carpeted floor of his bedroom after a moment, padding over to the bathroom where he plucked a bottle of cologne that his mom had gotten him from the counter. Then, coming back into his room, he held the cologne out for Eddie.

Eddie looked up at him in confusion. His eyes were puffy and his irises were dark and sparkling brightly. And the soft strands of his hair were sticking up wildly in every direction, and Richie was wanted to---no,  _ needed  _ to pet the strands back into their place. But he didn’t. He just stood there dumbly for a long while until Eddie asked, “What’s that for?”

“So you don’t smell like weed,” Richie shoved the cologne forward, and Eddie took it hesitantly, looking down on it like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. But soon he got the idea, and Richie thought he could just about die as he stood there and watched Eddie. Eddie who was all high and clad in his shirt and jacket that were too big for him, wearing the cologne that he always spritzed on himself before he left for school. 

He looked beautiful, Richie thought briefly, then he thought  _ oh no, this can’t be happening _ . Because the butterflies that were flapping around his stomach were undeniable. All these things that he was feeling towards  _ Eddie _ were undeniable, and there was no way in hell that this was going to work out well for him. 

-

The next day at school, Mr. Corlette had called Richie, Bill, and Eddie out of their first periods. The three boys met in front of the teacher’s door, all exchanging nervous glances at each other. 

“This is your fault,” Eddie informed Richie, his tone hard and his brow lowered. His lips were pressed tightly into a frown and his hands were balled up into little fists. 

Looking down on him, Richie smiled, but it was small and a little sad, and very  _ un- _ Richie, Eddie thought. Bill, on the other hand, had seen the expression before, and the low buzzing of worry settled within him. 

“R-Richie?” Bill said, raising his eyebrows in consideration. 

“Hm?” Richie turned to look at his friend, and they stared at each other for a long second, but Richie didn’t really seem to register Bill. His eyes were glazed over and far away. Something was  _ wrong _ . More wrong than yesterday. 

“Rich---” Bill was about to say again, but before he could, Richie turned to Eddie, smiling at him lazily. 

“Hey, Eds, I forgot to ask. How’d your parents react to your piercing?” Richie shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, rolling forward onto the balls of his toes as he looked at the door that was in front of him. 

Eddie took a moment to roll his eyes and sigh in annoyance at the nickname before he answered. “Not well, but I told them that I wouldn’t take it out.”

Richie flashed Eddie another smile, but it was watery and he didn’t show any of his bright, beaming teeth. The edges of his lips wavered for a moment before he turned back to the door and said, “Well, we can only avoid this for so long.” 

When the trio walked into the classroom, Mr. Corlette removed his glasses to study them, his gaze full of quiet anger. His lips were curled into a frown. He clasped his large, wrinkly hands together, craning his neck to look at Richie, who was standing between Eddie and Bill. 

“Mr. Tozier,” Mr. Corlette said, punctuating the name harshly. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Richie looked at his shoes for a moment before addressing Mr. Corlette with a thin, uneasy gaze. He shrugged. “‘M not sure.” 

“You’re not  _ sure _ !?” 

Richie shrugged again. 

“Listen, here,  _ Richard _ ,” Mr. Corlette pressed his index finger hard against his desk as he said these words, so hard that his flesh was blanching white. “As far as I am concerned you’re a  _ delinquent _ and a bad  _ influence  _ on those two boys.” He motioned to Bill and Eddie. They both looked wildly uncomfortable. “I have given up on the hope of you every being a moderately decent student, but Bill, Eddie,” he looked past Richie, “you two are  _ better  _ than this. And Eddie, you’ve barely been here a week. Don’t fall into a pattern of bad behavior.” 

Eddie flushed, nodding stiffly. 

“Richie, you’ve got a weeks detention. Bill, Eddie, I’ll let this slide, but  _ just this once _ . I don’t want to hear about you two skipping again, got it?”

“Y-yes s-s-sir.” Bill swallowed thickly. 

As soon the three were back out in the hallway, Eddie said, “Jeez, he really laid into you there.”    
  
Richie nodded, any words that he meant to say getting caught in his throat. He stayed silent, his expression growing more and more solemn. Eddie noticed this, but he didn’t comment on it. After a few seconds, Bill split off from the group, padding off to his first period, which was chemistry. Richie watched him go, and as more time passed, the more he looked like a kicked puppy. 

“We should hurry up to get back to math,” Eddie squeaked out, uneasiness pooling within his stomach. He didn’t like seeing Richie in the state that he was in. He didn’t like how he looked so dead behind the eyes, or how his body was limp and tired. 

“I’m gonna go out for a smoke, Eds,” Richie said, staring ahead blankly. 

“Richie---” Eddie said, then he promptly cut himself off, not knowing where he was going with it all. After pausing for a moment, he blurted out, “I’ll come with you!” and Richie was looking at him like he had a deathwish. 

“Eddie---” 

“Shush,” a stubborn look settled on Eddie’s face, and his features tightened. He refused to let Richie wander off alone in the state that he was in. The thought just didn’t sit right with him. 

Richie studied him for a long moment before he said, “Nothing I say is going to make you change your mind, huh?” 

Eddie nodded his head in confirmation. “Nothing.”    
  
So Eddie followed Richie outside to his smoking spot, watching Richie carefully as he lit a cigarette. He hadn’t even noticed that the tall boy had been shaking. Eddie watched him with hard, careful eyes, considering him for a long, long while before he spoke. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Richie glanced over at Eddie, the cigarette poking out from between his lips. Then, he looked forward and sat down on the rough concrete ground. A few cars whizzed past the two, and Richie shivered. 

Eddie sat down, too. “Richie…” 

Richie inhaled the smoke from his cigarette deeply, holding it in his lungs before he exhaled it in one large, grey puff. “I’m fine.” He mumbled. 

“I know you’re not,” Eddie looked at him pointedly, scanning his profile for something--- _ anything _ \---that would give him answers. His dark curls were spilling over onto the rims of his glasses, and he looked as pale as death. 

Richie tapped some of the ashes from his cigarette onto the concrete. “Yeah,” he said softly, scooting a little closer to Eddie for warmth, and maybe for something else. “But I don’t want to talk about it. ‘M sorry, Eds.” 

“That’s okay,” Eddie croaked out, the cold air burning and drying out his throat. 

Richie hummed for a moment, and a few more cars passed them by in blurs of colour. Then, he laid his head on Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie stiffened, but he didn’t bother to push him away. Silence hung around the two and Richie closed his eyes. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice so quiet that it was almost nonexistent. 

“Yeah.” 

Richie’s curls were brushing against Eddie’s cheek, and they were so soft and smelled of apple shampoo. Richie shifted further into the crook of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie was trying hard not to scream because  _ god _ , he was so gay.  _ So _ ,  _ so, so _ gay and Richie was leaning up against him and his stomach was fluttering so much that he genuinly thought that he was going to explode. 

But then, Eddie reminded himself that he really couldn’t enjoy it all too much. He reminded himself of how homophobia ran rampant in Derry, and how Richie could very well be homophobic. 

Eddie shifted after a second. “Rich,” he mumbled, and in response, Richie groaned. “Come on, we gotta get back to class.” And he started to get up, but Richie quickly threw both of his arms around him, dropping his cigarette in the process. 

“No,” he said, and his hot breath was ghosting over Eddie’s skin, and Eddie was getting flushed and flustered and  _ if only  _ Richie knew what he was doing to him.    
  



	6. You Are Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! SORRY FOR THE LACK OF UPDATES I"VE JUST BEEN BUSY. Anyway, I didn't mean to write this much but this is about three thousand words lOL. 
> 
> I also put a lot of songs. I was on a mcr kick oops. 
> 
> Plum Island - Waterparks
> 
> Kill All Your Friends - MCR
> 
> The Only Hope for me is You - MCR
> 
> Millions - Gerard Way
> 
> Adrenaline - Simple Creatures 
> 
> Sober Up - AJR

Richie stared blankly ahead as Mrs. Monroe crossed her nylon clad legs. Her navy blue skirt was pulled taut between them and she brushed a lush wave of golden blonde hair back behind her shoulder. She smiled slightly, and her lips were coated in a bright red lipstick that complimented her outfit and her clear blue eyes. 

“So, what’s up, Richie?” 

Richie blinked at her, letting her kind face come into focus. 

“You seem a little upset today,” she leaned forward a little, clasping her hands together. Her thick hair flowed forward with her movements, falling over her shoulders so that it could hang limply. 

“Right,” Richie said, and he was shaking a little bit. He needed a smoke. 

“So what’s up, then?” 

The curly haired boy looked off to the side, his eyes focusing on a loose thread on the couch that he was sitting on. 

“Richie, we can’t get anywhere if you don’t _ talk _to me.” Mrs. Monroe urged, frowning. 

Richie sighed, slumping down. “It’s just…” he croaked out, but he wasn’t quite sure where he was going with the sentence so he stopped. “Things seem to be getting worse.” His voice was small and shaky, and it was all so disheartening. He thought that he was getting better, but now he felt like shit. 

“Have you been taking your meds?” Mrs. Monroe twisted her ankles around each other, her shiny red pumps squeaking as she did so. 

“Every day,” Richie let out a dry chuckle, but it didn’t sound humourous. Rather, sad and desperate. 

“Right.” She spun around in her chair, grabbing a notepad and a pen from her desk. She scribbled something down. “We might need to up your medication...depending on…” Then, she looked up, staring at him for a moment before she asked, “Or is it just dysphoria?” 

Richie shrugged. “It’s everything.” 

Mrs. Monroe nodded, her luscious hair bouncing. “We might need to up your medication,” she repeated, more firmly this time. 

“Okay.” 

  
A silence settled between the two, and Mrs. Monroe took a moment to study Richie while he was slouched forward with his unruly hair falling over his eyes. “Is anything else bugging you?” she asked, pursing her lips in consideration. 

Richie thought briefly about Eddie, then he thought about Bill, and then about how he really needed a cigarette. He thought about how Mrs. Monroe and his mother didn’t know that he had picked up smoking again. He thought about how he sort of just wanted to sleep for a thousand years. And despite all of this, he said, “Nothing else.” 

-

Eddie ran his tongue over the flat back of his lip stud, smiling a little bit as he glanced down at the excessive amount of food that his foster mom had made for breakfast. 

“I really wish you’d take that thing out,” she mumbled as she heaved two large pancakes onto the plate that Eddie held out in front of him. 

Eddie shook his head, the smile not leaving his lips. “I like it.” But really, it was so much more than that. It was freeing, to an extent. It was a choice that he had wholly made himself. It wasn’t made by someone who thought that they knew what was best for him, or by someone who was overbearing and controlling. It made was him. _ He _ made the choice. 

“Well, sure,” Emily said, pouring a generous helping of syrup on the fluffy disks of baked batter. “Eat up, Eddie.” She said, smiling brightly at the small boy. 

Eddie did just as he was told, reveling in the sweetness of it all. The pancakes were soft and a little salty due to the pads of butter that he had plopped on them. He ate something called french toast, which he had never heard of before, but which was delicious and tasted faintly of cinnamon. He had sliced strawberries and squares of cantaloupe, and at the end of it all, he was so full that he thought he might just throw up. 

Back in New York, he had pretty much lived off of packets of Ramen and slices of toast, and because of this, he had fallen wildly underweight. When he arrived in Derry, one of the objectives that his foster parents had taken on was to get him back up to a healthy weight, which proved to be kind of hard. The doctors told Eddie that his stomach had most likely shrunk, so this made it harder for him to eat a normal amount of food. Slowly, though, he was putting on weight and learning to eat a healthy amount of calories a day, opposed to five hundred (give or take.) 

Smiling, Eddie placed his plate in the kitchen sink. He offered to help Emily clean up, but she simply shook her head, her eyes shining happily. 

“I can manage, Eddie,” she said softly. “Why don’t you go up to your room and get changed. I’ve got something big planned for today.” 

Eddie took a moment to stare at her. Light poured in from the picture window that was placed in front of the sink. It was golden, and as it poured onto her, her dirty blonde hair glittered spectacularly. Things really weren’t so great, he thought then. Better, but still not great. 

Steven and Emily were okay, but they didn’t feel like family, and the house that he inhabited didn’t feel like home. But then, the house back in New York didn’t feel like home, either. He supposed that he had never really had a home, which struck him as something that he should’ve felt sad about, but he wasn’t. He was just indifferent; he had become accustomed to this life, and he didn’t know what he was missing.

“Okay,” he replied obediently, then turned so that he could shuffle away. The bottoms of his too-big pajama pants dragged on the hardwood floor, and he almost tripped over them before he hiked them up a bit on his waist. 

As he climbed up the stairs, he wondered what was in store for him, then he thought back over his week. On Sunday, it’d be exactly seven days since he had come to Derry. Sometimes, he thought it was all just a dream. He thought that maybe it would all fade away. He’d be back in that dark, dank closet in New York with his knees pressed up to his chest and tears streaming down his face. 

In real life he still cried about it all. Sometimes he just blinked and then he was back with Sonia, trying to keep a glare from crossing his features when she addressed him. She had been sick, they said. So sick that she was neglectful, they said.

And then Eddie blinked. 

_ Sirens rang through the air. Eddie lifted his head from his knees, and his cheeks burned with tears. It felt like a creature was mercilessly clawing its way through his stomach; he had never knew hunger to be so painful. Vaguely, he wondered where the sirens were coming from. A fire truck, possibly? A cop car? _

_ The thought faded from his mind after a moment, and he slumped down, crumpling in on himself. He had spent the better part of the day throwing up due to low blood sugar, and now he was on the verge of passing out. The breaths that he took grew more and more shallow, and blotches black spotted his vision. _

_ The sirens grew louder. _

_ Many years ago, Eddie had hung christmas lights up in his “room,” and now, they were on their last leg. The lights were dimming and flickering, so the room was growing unnervingly dark. The only other light source was a small, dinky lamp that only worked half of the time due to a shortage in the cord. _

_ Eddie almost toppled over on himself, but then he heard a loud knock that the front door. Sonia didn’t answer, and Eddie was locked in the closet, so he couldn’t. The knock sounded once more. It was heavy fisted and assertive. The sirens were just outside of the house, now, screeching, then coming to a halting stop. _

_ Eddie fell over. _

_ “Ma’am!” a hardy male voice called out. “Child Protective Services! Open up!” _

_ Sonia tried to hide, but the police and CPS staff were persistent. Finally, she cracked open the front door, peering out. Inside, Eddie was passed out on the floor of the closet. _

_ She ended up putting up a damn good fight, not letting anyone in the house at first, but then the police officer who had escorted the CPS staff flashed a search warrant in her face. _

_ “We have a right to search the premises, and we will exercise that right.” He stated, face stern. _

_ When Eddie cracked his eyes back open, his head was pounding and he was being carried from the house, out into the world. And that was new. He was never allowed to go out except for school, but even then, it was a struggle between him and Sonia. _

_ Eddie shifted a little in the large, muscular arms that he was tucked in. He peered over a broad shoulder that was clad in a thick, bullet proof vest and a navy blue t-shirt. Behind him, Sonia was being held back by a total of three cops. She was screaming after Eddie, her eyes boring into his, but he didn’t register her. He just blinked and then passed back out. _

Eddie was startled back into the present by Emily calling his name loudly. He jumped, looking around at his surroundings. Slowly, he came back into reality. His cheeks felt wet, so he lifted a hand to them, and sure enough, he had been crying. He was also sitting down on the tile floor of the bathroom with his back pressed against the door. His toothbrush was laying on the ground in front of him, and his mouth was filled with minty foam. 

_ What? How did I…? _ Eddie thought, pushing himself up from the floor. He leaned down over the sink to rinse his mouth, and as he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eyes were red and puffy; he thought he looked like hell. 

“Eddie! Are you almost ready?” Emily called out once more. 

“Almost!” Eddie replied, and as his voice rose, it wavered. Memories of cops and sirens and Sonia screaming his name in a ragged, emotional voice were playing behind his eyelids. He felt like he was caught between two different realities, neither of which he wanted to be a part of. 

-

Richie wasn’t old enough to legally purchase cigarettes, but he usually found people that he could bum a few smokes off of, and when he was in the area, he went to the convenience store on the corner of Belmont and Sparrowhead. The owner let him buy whatever he wanted as long as he paid him a little extra. 

Richie slipped the guy a ten dollar bill and asked for a pack of Camels. The guy turned around to grab what he had requested, and Richie examined him as he did so. He was shorter than him, but so were most people. Richie was pushing 5’11, after all (_ Thank fuck that I got on testosterone so early _ , Richie thought mildly). The guy’s belly protruded greatly from beneath an off-white, grease stained tank top, so much so that he looked like he was a good eight or nine months pregnant. He was almost completely bald, and unkempt stubble coated his face. Richie shuddered. He hoped that he didn’t age like _ that _.

A pack of Camels was placed on the counter, as per Richie’s request. Richie smiled tightly in a disingenuous manner. “Thanks,” he said, holding the pack up, and the guy only flicked his disinterested eyes up to glance at him for a moment before they flitted back down. That was Richie’s cue to leave, and he took it. 

Once outside, Richie lit one of the cigarettes. He smoked it eagerly, and the shaking that he was experiencing died down. Once the cigarette was a small nub, and once his fingers had been burnt, he dropped the butt and pressed the heel of his shoe down over it. He picked the butt up and tossed it into a trashcan before lighting up another cigarette. By the time that he had arrived back at his house, he had smoked half of the pack. Before entering, he shoved the carton of cigarettes into his pocket, crushing the box in the process. 

Richie knew that he probably smelled strongly of cigarette smoke, so when he walked into the house, he made a b-line for the stairs so that he could go upstairs to shower. After doing so, he walked down into the kitchen where his mother was peeling apples over the sink for the homemade applesauce that she was making. 

“How was therapy today?” she asked, turning to look at him with sincere, soft eyes. 

Richie smiled at her, but it was forced and it wavered a bit. “Good.” He said shortly, then he walked over to the fridge so that he could rifle through it. 

His long, slender fingers grazed over bags of fruit and various vegetables. Over jars of jam and mayo and condiments, but nothing that seemed remotely _ edible _to him. A groan escaped his lips, and his mother glanced over her shoulder. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” 

“Just…” Richie eyed a container of cherry tomatoes. “Nothing to eat.”

His mother shifted uncomfortably for a moment before she said, “Yeah,” and shame tinged her voice. “I haven’t...I haven’t been able to go grocery shopping yet.” 

Suddenly, Richie felt like an ass. She hadn’t gotten her paycheck yet, he remembered. This was all they had, and he was _ complaining _. “That’s okay, ma, I’ll make a salad.” 

She flashed him an uneasy smile, and he noticed that her eyes were growing sad which made _ him _ sad. She was trying her best, he knew. 

She turned back to her apples after a moment, then, looking down at one, she asked, “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” 

Richie paused for a moment. His fingers were gripping the lettuce tightly as he tore it into bite size pieces. “Well…” he sort of wanted to off himself, was all. Sort of wanted to just stop existing because he was so done with being alive, but he’d never tell her that. “Not really,” he finished, but it didn’t really sound all that convincing. 

Mrs. Tozier shrugged, nodding. She knew that if her son wanted to talk, he would. She wasn’t going to push things. Richie had always loved her for that. 

Not long after the conversation had taken place, Richie trudged back up to his room. His stomach was growling in protest, begging him to not leave the kitchen. Begging him to eat something else because lettuce that had been drenched in ranch dressing really wasn’t going to tie him over. He ignored the hunger pangs and fell face first onto his bed. 

He was itching for another smoke.

-

The day had drawn to a close and Eddie was sitting out on the concrete steps that lead through the front yard of Steven and Emily’s house. The stars above him were glinting, grinning down on him brightly as though life was just _ great _ . Just _ wonderful. _The moon was only halfway full, and it hung heavily in the sky. A gust of wind blew through the earth. Leaves on trees rattled, and dead ones that had fallen to the ground scraped against the asphalt of the road as they floated along. 

Eddie shivered. 

Just then, a lanky figure emerged from the darkness, and Eddie was frozen with fear for a moment before he realized that it was just Richie.

“Rich,” Eddie breathed. His heart had leapt into his throat, and now he was trying to will it back down to where it belonged. “You---you scared me,” he stammered. 

Richie smiled at Eddie, but it was unnerving, unnatural, and sad. Much to Eddie’s pleasure, the smile quickly fell away, and Richie pulled a pack of cigarettes out the pocket of the pajama pants that he was wearing. Out of the other pocket, he pulled out a lighter. He lit a cigarette quickly, and inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed behind his glasses. Eddie watched, intrigued. 

“You’re staring, Kaspbrak,” Richie quipped, sounding slightly amused, but mostly tired. 

Eddie looked away quickly, blushing, and Richie sat down next to him. “How do you know where I live?” he asked, staring down at the grass. 

Richie took a long drag of his cigarette before answering. He looked out upon the world pensively, eyes glinting with so many emotions that Eddie couldn’t place. “My mom knows Emily, so I just asked her.” 

Eddie smiled a little. He bumped Richie with his shoulder, “Stalker.” 

Richie smiled, too. It was slightly warm and humorous, not like his last smile had been. Eddie felt pride rise within him. _ He _had pulled that smile out of Richie. 

“Only for you, babe.” Richie lifted the cigarette back up to his lips, holding it gracelessly between his thumb and index finger so hard that a dent was beginning to form in it. 

Eddie blushed once more. “You smoke a lot,” he observed. 

Richie’s face contorted with disgust, and suddenly, he threw the cigarette on the concrete path in front of them and stomped it out. He felt shame bubble within him. The habit was disgusting, he knew. He usually kicked it and then picked back up whenever he was stressed. 

“Rich, I didn’t mean to offend---”

Richie cut him off by shaking his head. “No, it’s okay. I need to quit anyway.” 

“Okay,” Eddie said softly. He glanced over at Richie’s profile, and under the moonlight, he looked ethereal. His curls were highlighted with silver along with his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, and his cupid’s bow. It was as though a fairy had dusted him down gently with glitter. Or maybe like he was from another far away land where magic existed and Richie had all of it bundled within him. 

Then, without any amount of hesitation, Eddie plopped himself into Richie’s side. Richie stiffened for a second before wrapped an unsure arm around Eddie, pulling him closer. Eddie rested his head on Richie’s shoulder, blinking up at the stars. 

“How was your day, Eds?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie rolled his eyes, but he snuggled further in the taller boy, shivering a little bit. “It was okay. I just went shopping with Emi---my mom.” He swallowed, paling a little bit. Luckily, Richie didn’t seem to notice him stumbling over his words. 

Richie smiled a little bit, looking down on Eddie with a certain fondness that Eddie had never seen before. “Sounds fun.” 

“How was _ your _ day?” 

“Boring,” Richie said, and he was beginning to shake. Eddie watched him curiously. “Need a smoke.” He explained, and he almost pulled his pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his pants, but he resisted the urge. 

“Why’d you begin to smoke, anyway?” 

Richie thought back. He was thirteen when he had smoked his first cig---he had bummed one off a high schooler who was all too eager to get him addicted to nicotine. He supposed that all he wanted to do was destroy himself in any way that he could. Richie didn’t voice this, though, he just said, “I don’t know.” 

A silence fell between the two for a few seconds before Eddie said, “Richie?” 

“Hm?” 

Then, the smaller boy sighed and closed his eyes, leaning further into Richie until most all of his weight was pressed against him. “Nothing,” he dismissed himself, but it hadn’t been nothing. It had been the feeling of _ home _. 

Richie was warm and welcoming, a harsh contrast to the cool November night. He smelled nice and his soft hair was spilling onto Eddie’s own locks. His arm was tight and protective, and for once in his life, Eddie felt safe from the world. 

_ Home _ , Eddie thought gently, _ this must be what home feels like. _

_ Home is Richie Tozier. _

  



	7. The Secrets Keep Us Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEEHAW. 
> 
> Songs for this chapter:
> 
> Peach - The Front Bottoms 
> 
> Ain't It Fun - Paramore
> 
> Collar Full - Panic! At The Disco
> 
> Tear In My Heart - Twenty One Pilots
> 
> Ophelia - The Lumineers

A car rushed past the two and Eddie slowly blinked himself awake. For a long moment, he was very disoriented. It took him a good few seconds to realize that he was still outside with Richie; he had fallen asleep. He shifted slightly, glancing at Richie who was staring intently at the shining stars that blinked jauntily against the navy blue sky. 

“You’re awake,” Richie noted, still looking up at the sky. Clouds were now misting over the moon, and he smiled slightly. 

“Admiring the view?” Eddie asked, yawning. He pulled away, stretching his arms out far above his head before his hands came down in fists to rub at his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed that Richie’s gaze had shifted from the sky to him. 

“Yeah,” Richie said, sounding a little breathless. Eddie turned to look at him, quirking an eyebrow, and in response, the taller boy shook his head. “You should probably get back inside, it’s getting really late.” 

Eddie nodded and stood up, stretching a little more, and Richie mirrored his actions. 

“Hey,” Richie murmured softly, looking down on Eddie with his eyes that seemed as dark as the blue of the night sky. 

Eddie stared up at him dreamily, his brain going blank for a long few moments. Briefly, he thought of what it’d be like if he pushed himself up onto the tips of his toes so that he could press a chaste kiss to Richie’s dry lips. He thought about how Richie’s curls would feel tangled up in his hands, how warm his body would be if it was pressed up against Eddie’s own. 

“Hey,” Eddie said after a while. His head lolled to the side, and he was still floating off into his fantasies. 

“You have a cell phone, right?” 

Eddie was taken aback for a moment by the question, but he nodded. Sure, he had one, but he could barely figure out how to use it because he hadn’t had any piece of technology prior. “I do.” He stated. 

“Do you have it on you?” 

Eddie fumbled for a moment, jabbing his hands into the pockets on his pajama pants. Once one of his palms came into contact with the rectangular device, he pulled it from between the fabric. “Yeah,” he said. 

“Can I see it?” Richie held his palm out, and Eddie placed the phone in it. He smiled a little then pressed the power button only to realize that the phone wasn’t password protected. He unlocked it with a smooth swipe, then navigated to the contacts application where he entered his phone number. 

When Eddie was handed back his phone, he peered down at the contact, his brows furrowing. 

“Text me,” Richie commanded softly, pulling his own phone from his pocket. Eddie looked at him hesitantly for a second before he did as he was told, typing out the message ‘ _ Hi, it’s Eddie.’  _ slowly with his index finger. His tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he did so, and Richie stifled a giggle. 

“Done,” Eddie pressed the  _ send  _ button forcefully then looked back up at Richie. 

Richie’s phone sounded; the text had gone through. He beamed. “Now we can text each other!” 

A few minutes later, Richie padded off into the night, telling Eddie that he’d see him on Monday. Eddie watched him go before he turned around to walk up the path that led to the front door. Emily was peeking out of one of the windows at him, and he tried his best not to look annoyed. 

“Who was that?” she asked as soon as Eddie set foot back into the house. 

He shivered as the warmth of the house immediately enveloped him. “My friend,” Eddie said, eyeing Emily a little warily. Her eyes were wide and a little erratic, bouncing from feature to feature on his face. She reminded him a little too much of Sonia in that moment. 

Emily stayed silent for a few seconds while she studied Eddie. Whatever she was looking for, she didn’t find. Her shoulders fell as she said, “Okay,” and she was about to turn around and walk up the staircase before she added, “you should change before you go to sleep. You know how dirty concrete can get.” 

That night, before Eddie dozed off into a dreamless sleep, he lifted his phone high above his face and squinted, realizing that Richie had texted him a number of times.    
  


_ Richie <3: hey eds! _

_ 10:54 pm _

_ Richie <3: your probably asleep but i wanted to say tonight was nice _

_ 10:54 pm  _

_ Richie <3: i really enjoyed your company :-)  _

_ 10:55 pm  _

_ Richie <3: your really cool  _

_ 10:55 pm _

_ Richie <3: cant wait 2 see hang out with u again!!! _

_ 10:56 pm  _

_ Richie <3: okay! night eddie! _

Eddie smiled sleepily. He opened his messaging app to reply. 

_ Eddie: It’s “you’re,” Richie. _

_ 10:57 pm  _

_ Richie <3: wat? _

_ 10:58 pm _

_ Eddie: Nevermind. _

_ 11:00 pm _

Eddie didn’t wait to see Richie’s response, he just tossed his phone on the carpeted floor of his room before he finally fell asleep. 

-

It had become a habit for Richie and Bill to wait for Eddie after third period so that they could all eat lunch together, and Eddie didn’t mind. In fact, he reveled in seeing his friends waiting for him---hell! He reveled in having  _ friends _ ! That was something that he was completely new to, and it felt great, apart from how much he had to resist the urge to kiss Richie, and all. 

Eddie laughed merrily, waving goodbye to his  _ other  _ friend Ben as they parted ways. “See you next class!” he called out after the large boy. When he turned around, he started slightly. Richie was leaning over him, his eyes scanning Eddie’s features with overt interest. 

“Who was that?” he asked, standing up straight. 

“My friend, Ben,” Eddie replied. He began to walk forward towards the lunchroom and both Bill and Richie followed his lead. As Eddie glanced over at the two, he noticed that another kid was walking with them. 

He was taller than Bill, but shorter than Richie, and his hair was wild with curls, though not in the same loose way that Richie’s was. These coils were tight, precise, and golden in colour. 

“Ben who?” Richie asked, and Eddie rolled his eyes. 

Bill dug his elbow into Richie’s side. “Are y-y-you jea-l-l-lous, Richie?” he teased, grinning brightly. 

“Me!?” Richie gasped in faux offense, bringing a hand to his chest. “Jealous!?” His voice traveled loudly throughout the hallway. Some people turned to glare. More seriously, he said, “Nope, just looking out for my Eddie Spaghetti, is all,” and he wrapped a tight arm around Eddie’s shoulder, pulling him close. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, shifting out of Richie’s arm. “Who’s…?” he began softly, keeping his voice low so that only Richie could hear. 

“Oh!” Richie exclaimed, understanding where Eddie was heading with the question. “That’s Stan!” He leaned down and his voice dropped into a stage whisper. “That’s Bill’s  _ boyfriend. _ ” He said, earning a cry of protest from Bill. 

“Shu-shu-shu-hut the f-f-fuck up, Richie!” 

Eddie stiffened, his breath getting caught in his throat. His feet stopped moving and his eyes had gone wide. He played Richie’s comment over in his mind, trying to discern whether or not there was any malice hidden behind the words. Mostly, it had just sounded playful; he was teasing Bill. But was he teasing Bill because they thought that being gay was weird? Embarrassing?  _ Wrong?  _ Was Bill blushing so furiously because the thought of having a boyfriend was shameful and demeaning? 

Eddie couldn’t figure it out, and his mind began to spiral. The world began to be drowned out by the pounding of his heart against his chest, and he couldn’t fucking  _ breathe _ . He inhaled sharply, pushing past Richie, who, upon noticing that Eddie had stopped walking along with he, Bill, and Stan, turned around to ask if he was okay. Richie called out after him. Though Eddie was dimly aware of his muted, muffled voice, he didn’t register it as anything. 

Eddie began to rush off towards a hallway that branched off to the side and led out to the courtyard. He pushed the glass doors of the school open, gasping futilely as the cool outside air hit his body, causing his body to go rigid for a split second with slight shock. 

He rolled his shoulders causing his backpack to drop from them and onto the concrete ground with a hard  _ thud _ . Eddie kneeled down, and for a long, agonizing, and breathless moment, Eddie dug through it, looking for his inhaler. Once he finally found it, he brought it up to his lips and pressed down on the plastic canister. The chemically taste of medicine filled his mouth, and he began to cough rapidly.

Richie ran out of the school to Eddie, concern twisting his features, pulling his eyebrows together, making his eyes go wide. Making him frown. “Eddie! Are you alright!?” 

Eddie sucked in a shallow breath, wiping tears that stung at his eyes away. He continued to cough, but he nodded. 

“Are you...Are you sure?” Richie asked, looking down on Eddie in overt disbelief. 

Eddie nodded again, and soon, his coughing died down. Silence hung between the two. From somewhere in the distance, a bird chattered, its call ringing through the air shrilly. 

“What happened back there?” 

Eddie looked up at Richie, stilling kneeling on the ground. The concrete was beginning to hurt his knees. “I don’t know,” Eddie croaked out. Above the two, the sky was grey and clouded with mist. It looked like it might rain, but not hard; only slightly. Only in little pellets of spit, not in fat drops of tears. Eddie thought about this for a long moment while Richie stared at him, just so that he didn’t have to entertain the thought that Richie might hate something fundamental about him.

_ Maybe it’ll rain _ , Eddie thought,  _ and maybe Richie hates you.  _

The last part of that thought rammed its way into his mind, and it made Eddie wince. 

“Okay,” Richie said softly. He adjusted his glasses with his fingers that were shaking slightly with the need for a fix of nicotine. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, but he didn’t believe himself. The word wavered as it felt limply from his mouth. “I just need a minute, I’ll meet you guys in the lunchroom.”

Richie looked hesitant, but nonetheless, he agreed. But instead of leaving Eddie to his own devices, he just sort of stood there. After a second, he held a piece of paper out to Eddie. Eddie looked at it curiously. 

“Stan got invited to a party. He wanted to bring us along.” 

Eddie took the piece of paper from Richie gently, looking down at it curiously. It was an invitation. 

“You don’t have to go, but I thought it’d be fun.” Richie explained, worry still swirling around within his dark eyes. 

Eddie simply nodded, and shortly after, Richie turned around to walk back into the school. Once he was gone, Eddie shifted so that he was sitting normally. He rubbed his knees, feeling them ache slightly behind the denim fabric of his jeans. For a long moment, he considered the invitation, then he slipped it into his backpack. 

Minutes later, it began to rain, but only slightly. 

-

“A party?” Steven quirked an eyebrow, lifting his gaze from his phone. He pushed his reading glasses up from his face, letting them rest on the top of his head. 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. He clasped his hands together, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet nervously. 

“Eddie, do you know what takes place at high school parties?” 

Eddie thought for a moment, then he shook his head. Truthfully, he had no idea. He hadn’t even known that it was a normal thing for highschoolers to  _ have  _ parties before today. For a moment, he mused. Maybe people gathered around a table and played games. Maybe they watched movies while snacking ferociously on junk food. 

“Drugs.” Steven said, and Eddie winced. “Alcohol.” Eddie winced again. “ _ Sex _ .” Steven finished. “Is that really a place where you want to be?” 

Eddie shook his head furiously, his hair flinging about wildly as he did so.  _ No _ , he thought,  _ not at all _ . 

After the conversation with Steven, Eddie padded up to his room to work on homework and flip through his history textbook. He had become so engrossed in his school work that when his phone rang from across his room, he jumped, fright tearing through him. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathed, getting up from his bed to grab his phone. When he realized that Richie was the one calling him, he cursed once more. He had forgotten to tell Richie not to pick him up as they discussed at lunch. A noise of irritation came from between Eddie’s parted lips. He answered the call and was immediately bombarded by Richie’s voice. 

“I’m outside, where are you?” 

“Richie, I’m not going.” 

“ _ What _ !?”

Eddie sighed, “I asked my d-d---” he stuttered, blinking for a moment before he stared hard at his reflection in the window that he was standing in front of. He could see Richie’s car sitting idly in front of the house. “Dad.” He finished, letting out a breath of annoyance. “And he said that there’s a lot of  _ bad stuff _ that goes on during parties. I don’t think---” 

“Bad stuff?” Richie repeated, and he sounded wildly amused. “Like what?” 

“Like alcohol,” Eddie said, “and drugs. And  _ sex _ .” His voice took on the same inflection that Steven’s had. 

Richie barked out a laugh, and Eddie yelled at him through the phone. “Eddie, no one’s gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just dance the whole time, if you want.” 

Suddenly, Eddie felt dazed. Dancing with Richie? He could  _ dance with Richie _ ? “Oh.” He said, pausing for a moment. Then, “Okay.” 

Richie squealed with glee. “Alright, hurry up and get your ass out here. Bill and Stan are expecting us to get there soon.” After the words left his mouth, Richie hung up, leaving Eddie standing in his room a little bit dumbfounded. 

Soon, though, he sprung into action. He changed quickly from his pajamas to an outfit that he thought looked nice enough for a highschool party. It was simple; a white t-shirt, a pair of dark jeans, and a baby blue flannel. He grabbed his phone and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, then creeped out of his room and into the bathroom. 

Eddie scanned himself in the mirror, carding his hands through his hair in an attempt to make himself look a bit more presentable. Once he was finished fiddling with his appearance, he tiptoed from the bathroom and down the stairs, then to the front door. Steven and Emily were already asleep, so he supposed that his chances of getting caught were slim, and this thought was proved to be true when he was able to slip out of the front door without either one of them coming barreling after him. 

He walked up to Richie’s car and then knocked on the window, and when Richie noticed it was him, he unlocked the door. Eddie slipped inside. 

Richie stared at Eddie for a long moment before he turned to face the steering wheel. A blush spread across his cheeks. “You look…” he trailed off. “Um.” Richie’s eyebrows furrowed and, mentally, he cursed himself for not being able to form a cohesive sentence, but then, how was he supposed to when Eddie looked like  _ that _ ? 

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “What?” 

“Nothing,” Richie said, still staring down at the steering wheel. He started the car up and began to drive. “It’s not too far from here.”

Eddie nodded, turning to look out of the window as Richie sped off. Houses and trees passed by in a blur, looking dark and haunting in the night’s shadow, and he felt anxiety pool in the pit of his stomach. 

“Are you nervous?” Richie asked, sensing his unease. 

Eddie shifted in his seat. “A little,” he squeaked out. He placed his hands on his thighs, then slid them down to his knees, then he brought them up to fiddle with the buttons of his flannel. “Richie?” he asked, a little breathless. 

“Yeah?” Richie replied, turning to glance at Eddie briefly. 

The smaller boy noted how, in the night time, the artificial lights that inhabited the world flashed off of his glasses and created a glare. Eddie wasn’t all that fond of this glare. In fact, he found it quite irritating. He couldn’t see Richie’s eyes. His  _ gorgeous  _ eyes. His eyes that were melted pools of thick, rich, sweet chocolate. 

Everyone tended to say that eyes were the window to the soul, and Eddie hadn’t believed that until he met Richie and found that most every emotion flashed through his eyes. The flashes would always be bright and clear and  _ wonderful _ . Glinting and gleaming beautifully, accentuating his dark hair and pink lips and freckles that were faint, but that Eddie could most  _ definitely  _ see. 

“Eddie?” Richie asked after a moment of silence had passed. 

Eddie blinked, being pulled from his musing abruptly. He hadn’t even realized that he hadn’t spoken in so long. He flushed with embarrassment, clearing his throat. “Can I...tell you something?” His voice rose up so that it was high and squeaky. Internally, Eddie cringed. 

“Sure,” Richie said. 

“I’m a little scared.”    
  
Richie chuckled, smiling softly, “Scared? Of what?” 

Eddie frowned, thinking about the question for a moment. “Everything, I guess?” He shook his head for a moment, looking back out of the window. It was a bit dirty, covered with dust and debris, but Eddie could still clearly peer into the outside world. He watched as a squirrel skittered up a tree. 

Richie went uncharacteristically quiet for a few seconds before he said, “That’s okay. I am too, sometimes, but I won’t let anything bad happen to you. We’re going to have a good time, alright? And...and if you’re not comfortable, we can leave.” 

Eddie’s heart fluttered. The words washed over him warmly and made him feel a bit dizzy. Richie wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him? He cared that much? So, “Okay,” Eddie said, letting a small smile linger on his lips for the rest of the ride to the party.    
  



	8. Hope Shines Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only three songs for this chapter. Sorry! Didn't have time to find more
> 
> C'mon - panic! at the disco and fun. 
> 
> Burn The House Down - AJR
> 
> Constellations - The Oh Hellos (I may've used this one already? I'm not sure)
> 
> Also, y'all, I'm so fucking depressed right now, so I'm tryna write and I'm tryna make it good but it's not working. I like this story and I love all the comments, so I'm tryna be consistent with updates but my mental health is kicking my ass. YEEHAW

Richie smiled down on Eddie as he led him into the house where the party was taking place. He watched as worry crossed the smaller boy’s features, and in a moment of daringness, he wrapped his arm tightly around Eddie’s shoulder, pulling him close. 

Richie leaned down. “You alright?” he spoke lowly into Eddie’s ear. Eddie nodded quickly, glancing around nervously. Richie paused for a moment before he said, “Let’s get you something to drink.”

The two navigated their way to the kitchen, tripping over empty beer bottles and shoes and food wrappers. Eddie clung to Richie like his life depended on it, eyeing everyone they passed anxiously. He had never been in such close proximity with other teenagers before, and for a moment, Steven’s warning rang through his head. 

_ Is that really a place you want to be?  _

Then, briefly, he thought of Sonia. Sonia who always told him that things were dangerous, that Eddie was fragile. Sonia that  _ cared so much _ . So much that she starved Eddie and locked him in a small room because  _ she knew best.  _

The kitchen that the two found themselves in was small and vacant of most people, which Eddie was grateful for. He made a b-line for a bowl of punch, grabbed a large red, plastic cup, and began ladeling the crimson liquid into it. 

“That’s probably been spiked, Eds,” Richie said. 

Eddie looked at him for a moment before he stared down at his cup, considering it. Then, he began to chug the drink quickly. It tasted slightly fruity, but it also burned and was wildly pungent. Despite the taste, Eddie let it slide down his throat. Once all of the punch was gone, he pulled the cup away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Richie was looking at him with wide eyes, then he broke out into a grin. 

“Jesus, Eds!” Richie laughed heartily. “Save some for the rest of us!”    
  
“What?” Eddie asked, laddeling some more into his cup. He raised his eyebrows. “You want some?” he inquired. 

The broad grin on Richie’s lips shrunk down a bit, and he shook his head. “Nope. I’ve got to get you home safe and well. No punch for me.” He turned to walked over to a large chrome fridge that sat against one of the kitchen walls. “I’ll just drink…” he began, rifling around in the machine. “Orange juice.” Richie spun around and closed the fridge. He grabbed a cup and poured the orange juice into it until it hit the brim. 

Eddie was on his third serving of punch. 

Richie sipped on his cup of orange juice, tilting his head as he studied Eddie. “Are you alright?” he asked for the second time that night. From behind the large cup, Eddie nodded, eyes wide. “Okay...I just...didn’t get the impression that you planned to get smashed when we talked over the phone.” 

Eddie hadn’t really planned to do anything. Initially, he hadn’t planned to even come, but defiance and anger was sparking hotly within him and he wanted to be reckless in spite of everyone who pretended to know best. 

Richie watched Eddie, and Eddie watched him right back, feeling grateful for the fact that he wasn’t trying to stop him. Once Eddie’s belly was warm with what he assumed was liquor, and once his muscles were beginning to relax in a comforting manner, he asked Richie, “Okay, what now?” 

Richie hummed, his eyes flicking all around the kitchen as he considered Eddie’s question. “I dunno. I guess we could go find Bill and Stan?” 

Eddie shrugged. “Sure.” 

Bill and Stan ended up being in the basement of the house, sitting on a large couch across from each other, throwing potato chips into each other’s mouths. Bill was the designated driver for the two, which meant that Stan had downed more punch than Eddie had, which meant that he was drunk. Drunk and  _ talkative.  _

“Richie! Eddie!” Stan flailed when the two walked down into the basement. The room was large, dimly lit by fluorescent lights, and it smelled faintly of stale cardboard. 

Bill smiled at the two, raising his hand in greeting. “H-hey g-g-g-uys.”

“Hey, Bill!” Richie slung an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, feeling the smaller boy wobble a little bit on his feet. The alcohol was beginning to hit. 

“Ed _ die _ ,” Stan said, slurring a bit. He turned to Eddie, trying to sit up further on the couch. Despite his efforts, he kept sliding down on the fabric, so eventually he just gave up and pointed a finger at Eddie, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “You…” He was struggling to get the words from his mouth, “You were upset earlier today.” 

  
Eddie watched Stan intently, and for some strange reason, he felt himself giggle. What Stan said was by no means inherently funny, but he couldn’t help himself. Richie slipped away from him and walked over to sit by Bill on the couch, and at the lack of anything stable to hold him in place, he fell, landing next to Stan. Stan began to laugh, too. 

“I hope---” Stan cut himself off, hiccuping. His cheeks were turning red, and he began to laugh more. “I hope you’re feeling better.” He chuckled out, gripping his stomach as tears began to spring from his eyes.

The laughter was contagious, and soon Eddie’s head was pressed between his knees and his lips were aching from being stretched so wide. 

Richie turned to Bill, studying his expression. “You look like you’re about to explode with jealousy, Big Bill.” He noted. 

Bill huffed, crossing his arms. He let his eyes meet Richie’s, then rolled them. “Well, y-y-you d-d-d-do, too.” 

Richie straightened up, raising his eyebrows, “I do?” 

Bill dug his elbow into Richie’s side, watching as his friend’s face dissolved into realization. “Y-you do,” Bill said firmly. 

“Oh.” Richie laughed a little, though it was humourless. It sounded nervous and unsure. “Oh.” He repeated. “Oh no. I’m falling hard, Big Bill.”    
  
Bill barked out a laugh, his eyes squinting closed in amusement. “Y-you juh-juh-just now n-n-noticed?” He grinned, the expression lighting the room up brighter than the lights hanging overhead were. 

Richie hummed in thought, flicking his eyes over to Eddie. He and Stan were engaged in a heated discussion about something that was most likely unimportant, but pure intensity was coating their features. “I guess.” Richie said, but that wasn’t being all that truthful.

He felt heat rush to his cheeks whenever Eddie genuinely laughed at one of his jokes, and he felt butterflies erupt in his stomach Eddie stared at him, simply intrigued with large, sparkling dough eyes. Richie had only known Eddie for a week and a half, sure, but he knew what the smaller boy meant to him. And it was pathetic, he thought, that he was this attached to Eddie. 

“Do you think…” Richie started, swallowing, and suddenly the fact that he was sober felt very jarring and uncomfortable. “Do you think that he’ll like...accept me?” he asked, fidgeting nervously. 

“A-a-ccept y-you?” Bill asked, then realization hit him, and his mouth fell open into an O. “I mean,” he shifted, his lips tightening in consideration. “S-s-sure.”

Richie glanced over at him, unconvinced, “Sure?”

“I m-mean…” Bill looked thoughtful for a moment. His eyes began to glaze over as he stared off at the wall behind Stan and Eddie. On that wall there was a large closet covered by two big, white wooden doors. Next to that was the staircase that led up to the first floor. Bill noted these things because it was easier than thinking back. Easier than saying, “Rememb-b-ber A-A-Ashton?” 

Richie blinked, and yeah, he did remember Ashton. Of course he did. How could he not? Why, he had beaten Bill until he was black and blue. How could he  _ not _ ? 

The lanky boy winced, then said, “Yeah.” He began to bite the inside of his cheek nervously

“Maybe i-i-it’ll b-be luh-luh-like th-th-th-th-th---” Bill squeezed his eyes shut, craning his neck forward. The word simply wouldn’t leave his mouth, and he felt frustration grip at him tightly.

“That.” Richie finished for him, his mouth going dry. 

It had been years since either of the boys had thought about Ashton, but now painful memories were brought back to their minds. Ashton had been a good friend of both Richie and Bill years and years ago during sixth grade. This was before Richie had come out to anyone as trans---back when he was still being called Annabelle, and back when Bill tried his hardest to seem straight which, most of the time, meant overcompensating. 

One day, though, Bill got tired of overcompensating. He was exhausted from pretending, and so he had been honest. Honest with both Richie and Ashton when really, he should’ve only been honest with the former. With no reservations, Ashton had let Bill have it. He had kicked him and punched him until Bill had puked up a bit of blood. Had made it so that an endless stream of tears were cascading out of Bill’s swollen-shut eyes and down his cheeks. Ashton had pounded deep, heavy shame into Bill that still lingered even now. 

The thought of Eddie reacting to him coming out with such pure, unfiltered hatred made Richie nervous. He slumped down on himself, frowning deeply. “Maybe...Have you told Stan yet?”

Bill shook his head, and his face contorted with anxiety. “No. And I certainly don’t plan to.” He admitted resolutely. 

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.” Bill confirmed. 

Richie sighed, eyeing Eddie. He and Stan were hitting it off, but Richie was bored and really just wanted to pull Eddie back upstairs and out onto the dancefloor. So he did, feeling only slightly bad that his reasons for tugging Eddie away from Stan were completely selfish. 

“Where are we going?” Eddie asked as Richie wrapped his fingers around his wrist so that he could pull him up from the couch. 

Richie smiled softly, his eyes glinting fondly. “To dance.” 

“To  _ dance _ !?” Eddie exclaimed, bouncing up from his place. He beamed, pushing himself up onto his toes excitedly. 

The two bid Stan and Bill goodbye before they walked up the stairs to the first floor. By this point, the house was completely packed with teenagers. Richie’s hand had slipped from being around Eddie’s wrist to tightly holding his hand so that they wouldn’t lose each other. 

Music boomed throughout the house, giving the building a pulse of its own, and Richie grinned as he pulled Eddie through a crowd of bodies and out onto the dancefloor. Eddie tripped forward into Richie’s chest, and because the house was absolutely packed, he stayed there.

Richie flushed and cleared his throat awkwardly, but Eddie didn’t seem affected by their proximity. He giggled, slinging his arms around Richie’s shoulders, letting his hands hang limply over them. The small boy swayed from side to side unsteadily, his movements clumsy, uncoordinated, and affected by the alcohol that he had downed earlier. 

  
“I like this song!” Eddie shouted over the din of the party. Someone stepped on the back of his heel causing him to stumble a bit. 

Richie’s breaths were growing shallow and he was beginning to feel awfully lightheaded for two reasons. Reason one was that Eddie was close.  _ So close _ . And,  _ god _ , he felt like a teenager girl about to squeal his head off. But then reason two was that Eddie was close. Close enough to maybe feel his chest. To maybe see his binder. To maybe know something that he didn’t want to know. 

Despite the feelings that were buzzing within him, he mustered up a calm voice. “Are you alright?”

Eddie nodded, his eyes glittering happily. He linked his hands together and rested them on the back of Richie’s neck, unable to see the effect that he was having on the taller boy. “Are  _ you _ ?” He asked, tilting his head. 

Richie laughed and nodded. “Sure am, Eds!” 

At that, Eddie just smiled, forgetting that he was supposed to be annoyed at the nickname. 

-

Richie watched Eddie as he slipped into the passenger's side of his car. The small boy fumbled with his seat belt for a long moment before Richie leaned over to help him. Once he heard the click that signaled that the seat belt had snapped into place, he leaned back so that he could scan Eddie. 

He looked tired. His eyelids were heavy and sagging down, and his head was lolling to the side slightly. Eddie flicked his eyes up to meet Richie’s, and his eyelashes looked especially especially thick in the darkness of the night. Richie couldn’t help but to reach out to ruffle Eddie’s hair.    
  
Eddie smiled, and he looked thoughtful as Richie pulled his hand away. After a moment of silence, he said, “Thanks, Richie.” His voice was a bit hoarse, and his hair was sticking. His dark eyes were alight, blazing and sparkling.

“For…?” Richie asked.

“Inviting me to come along with you. I had fun.” 

Richie studied Eddie for a long while, thinking that Eddie looked like an angel, maybe, with his silhouette lit up from behind by the dull, yellow glow of the street lamps just outside Richie’s car. Richie’s stomach fluttered wildly, and he felt the urge to push forward and press his lips to Eddie’s. To tangle his hands in Eddie’s hair, and to pull him close. 

But. He didn’t. 

Instead, he turned to face the steering wheel. He gripped it loosely for a second before he inserted his keys into the ignition and twisted them until the car roared to life. “I had fun too.”

The tall boy pulled out of his parking place and drove off. The traffic was minimal because the party was still raging on. They had decided to leave early, though, because both of the boys were exhausted and over the stench of sweat, alcohol, and vomit. 

Soon, the two were sitting in front of Eddie’s house, both staring forward through the windshield, neither moving. Richie was sort of just waiting for Eddie to slip out of his car and bid him goodnight, but Eddie didn’t. Instead, he asked, “Do you ever just stare at the stars?” 

Richie thought back to how he had found Eddie looking up at the night sky only a couple days before. “No,” he said absentmindedly, lost in the memory. “I don’t.” 

“My mom used to say,” Eddie began, and his voice wavered slightly, “that stars were just holes in the sky. Just heaven peering down on you.” He sounded rueful and far away. Then, he asked, “Do you believe in heaven, Richie?” 

Richie swallowed, looking at Eddie with a contemplative expression. It was like a switch had flipped. Party Eddie was gone and replaced with someone completely different. Richie felt awfully uneasy at the change in tone. 

“I don’t...know.” He answered after a moment, feeling a little stupid. He had never really thought about it all before. He never really thought about what exactly happens after you die. All he knew was that people just die, and then they’re gone. Where do they go? Beats him.

“I don’t know either,” Eddie admitted, looking to the side so that he could stare out of the window. “But I’ve been trying to figure it out.” 

Richie didn’t know what to say. He thought back to Eddie sitting on that concrete step again, and suddenly, he realized that Eddie had been looking up at the sky with hard eyes, considering it.  _ Trying to figure it out. _

Eddie peered up at the sky through the window of the car, his lips tilting down into a small frown. He didn’t know why he was thinking about all of this now, but as they were driving home, Sonia’s face had popped into his mind, unwanted and unwelcome. Her face had been contorted with worry, and heaven, she had told Eddie, existed. And if he wanted to go to heaven, he had to be careful. He had to mind himself and do what she told him to. For the longest while, Eddie believed her. 

Now, sitting next to Richie, leaving a party where he had been surrounded by things that he had been told only sinners surrounded themselves with, Eddie realized that he no longer believed Sonia, and that he hadn’t for awhile. He had stopped when he was ten. When Sonia had gone a week without feeding him. And during that week, Eddie not only stopped believing Sonia, but also in the notion of heaven altogether. 

Still though, Eddie considered the stars, and he considered the possibility of them being little holes poked into the sky where hope shone through. Maybe angels were smiling down on him. Maybe he just wasn’t squinting at them hard enough to see. He didn’t know. 

“Eddie?” Richie broke the silence. 

Eddie snapped out of his memory-induced trance, blinking away Sonia’s face. He gave Richie a small, unsure smile. “I’m fine,” Eddie said, sensing the question that was on the tip of Richie’s tongue. He turned to look at the house that stood outside of Richie’s car. All the windows were dark and, surely, Steven and Emily were still asleep. He could slip in unnoticed. 

“Do you want me to walk you to the front door?”    
  
“You don’t have to,” Eddie unbuckled himself and started to open the car door.    
  


“But I  _ want  _ to.” Richie said, and so he did. Eddie didn’t protest one bit. 

The two walked up to the front door, and they both stood there for a moment. Richie was looking down on Eddie, and Eddie was staring down at the concrete step that his feet were planted on. Richie opened his mouth for a moment, ready to say something, but before he could, Eddie spoke. 

“I’m really glad we’re friends.” He lifted his gaze, letting his eyes meet Richie’s. 

Richie bit his lip for a moment, trying to figure out why the expression that crossed Eddie’s features made his heart ache so much. “I’m glad we’re friends, too.” 

Eddie didn’t bother to ask what Richie was going to say before he turned to the front door, twisted the knob and slipped inside of the house, leaving Richie standing outside with his arms limp at his side, looking a little shocked at Eddie’s abrupt departure. 

“I almost…” Richie began, staring at the dark door in front of him. “I almost wish we were more than friends.” 

But almost was an understatement. Both he and the door knew this. 

  
  



	9. And So He's Bold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! I've been pretty fucking sick so I'm really sorry I didn't update this earlier! I hate hate HATE it when books I get really into don't get updated because I'm IMPATIENT so I try to be the writer I want. But. Things happen, y'know? 
> 
> Only one song for this chapter bc I'm lazy but it's a BOP so I think that makes up for it 
> 
> Brittle Bones Nicky - Rare Americans 
> 
> OKAY, so the italics are weird? A lot of the things that are italicized now aren't. Um...normally I paste it in as rich text, but it won't let me paste there? I'm sorry

Richie swallowed, his eyes widening from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. He adjusted the spectacles, looking at Bill with his pink lips parted in slight shock. The lanky boy shifted on his feet uneasily. “He’s back?”

Bill nodded firmly, his face tightening with a solemn expression. “Yuh-yuh-yeah.”

Richie looked forward, musing. “I can’t believe he only got two weeks suspension…”

From beside Richie, Eddie piped up, pushing himself up onto the balls of his feet. “Who?”

Both Richie and Bill stared down on him with such graveness that Eddie felt unease seep into it. In fact, the whole school seemed grave and sober. Everyone was breathing shallow, uncertain breaths, simply waiting for chaos to strike.

“Heh-Heh-Henry B-B-B-B-B---”

“Bowers.” Richie finished for Bill, disgust painting his tone. But then...there was also something else. Fear, perhaps. Richie tugged on his backpack straps nervously, sucking his bottom lip in between his pearly white teeth. He glanced around, his eyes flicking from face to face, and he was almost expecting to see Henry’s glaring down back at him. Horror crept into him.

“H-he’s aw-aw-aw-aw-awful.” Bill choked out, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “He g-got suh-suh-suspended for t-two weeks f-f-for beating a k-k-k-kid up.”

Richie nodded in agreement with Bill’s statement, the movement slightly frantic. “But now he’s back.”

Eddie found himself to be strangely apathetic to all of this information. “So?” he asked, wondering why he should care. Why anyone should care, for that matter.

“So?” Richie repeated incredulously, blinking. God, he thought mildly, I love Eddie but he can sure be a dumbass sometimes. He adjusted his glasses for probably the third or fourth time since the trio had entered the school. “So, Henry got suspended, so he’s bound to be pissed because he’s bound to have gotten hell from his dad---”

“H-his dad’s cr-cr-crazy.” Bill state matter of factly.

“Yeah,” Richie agreed. “But, when Henry’s mad, you don’t want to be near him---well, you never really want to be near him but---”

“Y-you get it.” Bill said.

Eddie nodded. He did, but he didn’t care. Normally, something like this would’ve scared the shit out of him, would’ve drained his face of colour and his mouth of moisture, but he was still feeling weird from the night before. Also, he was a tad bit hungover.

Bill departed from Eddie and Richie to head to his first period with Stan, waving them off kindly before he sank into the crowd of teenagers that filled the halls. Mrs. Ellison’s classroom was quiet, and eerily so. A high school was supposed to be loud, roudy, and rambunctious, and normally Derry High was, but not on a day like this. Not with Henry Bowers trotting around the hallways.

Eddie took a moment to study a girl that sat in the front row near Mrs. Ellison’s desk. Her lips were twisted into a tight frown, and eyebrows were pulled down into a fearful expression. Then, he looked over at Richie, who looked awfully afraid, too.

It wasn’t just Henry that Richie was afraid of, though. No, certainly not. He was afraid of the truth. The truth that loomed over him, leaving him in its dark shadow. The truth that could be unveiled to Eddie at the hands of a miserable, angry fuckwad.

Bill and Richie had been lucky enough to stay out of Henry's warpath for three years, only earning the occasional onslaught of verbal abuse and a few hard shoves, but still, Henry was erratic. He could pounce on anyone at any time for any reason.

He could pounce at any moment and let Eddie know what Richie really was.

“Rich.”

Richie felt an elbow press into his side gently, and he looked over at Eddie, taking a moment before he truly registered his friend. After a second, he cleared his throat and asked, “Yeah?”

“You alright?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah.”

The two slipped into their seats and then pulled out their math textbooks, waiting quietly for class to start. Once the bell rang, Mrs. Ellison stood up from her desk and walked to the front of the room, clasping her hands together.

“Well,” she said in an oddly resolute tone, and she smiled, too, but it didn’t reach her eyes. The expression was hollow. It seemed that even she had been affected by Henry Bowers’s arrival. “Shall we began?” she asked the class, glancing from face to face anxiously.

No one answered her.

-

Eddie really liked Ben. He was nice, polite, and smart. And he wasn’t as annoying as Richie was, which was definitely a plus (even though Eddie secretly loved when Richie annoyed him.) Ben also knew a lot about science, and when he told Eddie this, Eddie beamed brilliantly.

The class was filing into the room slowly, and there were four or five minutes left until the bell rang. Ben and Eddie filled this gap of time with idle chat.

“I’m taking geology and astronomy,” Ben informed, smiling at the clear excitement that glittered in Eddie’s eyes. “And next year, physics.”

“Wow,” Eddie gaped. He had never really been particularly interested in any of the classes that he took---he never excelled at any subjects. Back in New York he had always gotten good grades, but not because he enjoyed school or was academically gifted. The only reason was because working on school work had given him an excuse to stay away from Sonia.

“What’re you taking?” Ben asked, leaning onto Eddie’s desk. His thin lips were curved up into a handsome, kind smile, and his eyes were shining with interest.

Eddie shrugged. “Just chemistry,” he said, feeling a little sheepish.

Then, abruptly, the classroom went startlingly silent except for the dull thud of footsteps on tile floor. Everyone shielded their eyes from whoever was entering the room...except for Eddie. He looked up to see a tall boy who was lean, but well-built. His eyes were dark and brooding, and atop his head sat dirty blonde hair. This, Eddie assumed, was must’ve been Henry Bowers.

“Eddie,” Ben hissed, keeping his voice low. “Don’t---” before he could finish, he was cut off by Henry’s angry voice.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Henry barked at Eddie, the aggression clear in his voice. His hands were down at his sides, clenched into tight balls of fists. His lips were curling up into a toothy snarl.

Eddie briefly thought about stars, and Am I going to heaven? he asked himself vaguely, the words rattling around somewhere in the back of his brain. Sonia intruded his mind, then, telling Eddie to mind himself, but he didn’t really want to. In fact, he wanted to resist. Resist in spite of Sonia.

So, pulling some courage from the pit of his stomach, he did. “You, I guess,” Eddie shrugged, and faint gasps sounded all around the classroom.

Henry looked stunned for a long moment, then anger boiled into his features and he growled. “Shut up!” he commanded, “I’m not gonna take shit from a pipsqueak like you!”

Eddie blinked up at Henry innocently, batting his eyelashes, perhaps egging him on.

“Mind yourself, Eddie. Mind yourself; it’s for the best that you do.”

For a second, Eddie thought that he might sink into his memories and see Sonia clearly in front of him. Maybe he’d be back in New York, back in that worn house. Back and away from Henry...but then, he wasn’t. He was using all of his might to not float away.

I’m here, Eddie told himself firmly, and I’m not taking any shit, either. No, not anymore.

So Eddie said, “Right back at ya,” and people were beginning to murmur in shock, and Eddie’s heart was beating a little too hard in his chest as he watched Henry’s face strain with vexation, but he felt oddly free. Free in the same way he had felt when he had gotten his lip pierced, and free in the same way he had felt when he downed that spiked punch.

Mostly, Eddie was tethered to his past. Tethered to Sonia, and tethered to the stars in the sky. Tethered to his trauma, he supposed, but then, sometimes he wasn’t, and those were the times he cherished the most.

Eddie barely registered Henry’s fist hitting his face. Barely registered the dull pain that had smacked his skin and the ache of his nose. And then, he was out.

-

_Nightmares were common for Eddie, though he never truly called them that. The images that played behind his eyelids at night were mostly disturbing. Mostly bloody and gory and uncomfortable, but when Eddie woke up, he was never particularly frightened, so he called them dreams in spite of what they truly were._

_When Eddie had been punched by Henry, a dull cracking sound rang through the air before he had passed out and crumpled down, only saved from hitting his forehead hard against his desk by Ben, who reached out to hold him up. Now, Eddie was laying on the uncomfortable bed that was in the school clinic. The piece of furniture was barely padded, and it was covered with a thin sheet of crinkly white paper._

_Now, Eddie was dreaming. Not having the nightmares that plagued his mind so frequently, no, he was dreaming. Dreaming of Richie and Bill and Ben was there, too, smiling broadly._

_Eddie was sitting in an unfamiliar room that was bright, lit up by a phantom sun. Beams of golden light poured into the room from windows that didn’t exist and pooled onto the floor in puddles of melted caramel and thick honey._

_Ben was beaming, holding out an absurd amount of rocks and crystals in his palms for the size of his hands. Eddie thought that there must’ve been hundreds of them sitting there on his skin, glittering under the rays of light. He was saying something about “The crystalline structure” in a matter of fact voice that was just so Ben. And Eddie knew that it was so Ben even though he hadn’t known the boy for longer than a week and a half._

_Eddie was wrapped up in Richie’s jacket, and the dark fabric seemed to go on for miles, but at the same time, not at all. The sleeves pooled over Eddie’s hands, and he was laughing, and next to him was Richie who was laughing, too._

_Next to Ben, Bill was stuttering out a joke, and everyone erupted in laughter once more. Richie threw an arm around Eddie and whispered something muffled into Eddie’s ear, and, “What?” Eddie asked. Richie repeated himself, and Eddie did the same. He couldn’t understand._

_“I said,” Richie began, pressing himself so close to Eddie that his lips were brushing the shell of Eddie’s ear, “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! Wake_

“Up!”

Eddie bolted upright, heaving in rapid breaths. His eyes grew wide as he stared ahead, and in front of him were three familiar faces: Ben, Bill, and Richie.

Richie looked panicked---frantic, even. Behind his glasses, his eyes resembled two oreos, dark and large. His mouth was hanging open slightly, and his hair was wild. He leaned forward, the remnants of the word that he had loudly spouted out dying in his throat.

“Wha…?” Eddie blinked around, disoriented. A headache was pounding its way into his head.

“A-a-a-are yuh-yuh-yuh-you alruh-ruh-right?” Bill asked, craning his neck forward as if that would help him eject the words from his mouth.

Again, Eddie blinked. His lips parted in an attempt to respond to Bill’s question, but he couldn’t get his brain to function properly.

“Are you alright?” It was Richie who asked this time. His hands came down to grip the edge of the bed. His fingers were making dents in the worn faux leather.

“I’m f...fine.” Eddie thought for a moment, trying to remember exactly what had happened, but he couldn’t. The only thing that sounded in his mind was the name Henry Bowers.

Ben swallowed nervously. “You’ve got some real balls on you, man.”

“Yuh-yuh-yuh-yeah.” Bill agreed, shifting from foot to foot. He looked uncomfortable, but not because of where Eddie had landed the trio. He looked uncomfortable for Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asked, his voice rising in question.

Ben’s eyes grew wide. “Do you not remember?”

Eddie thought back as best as he could. He screwed his eyes shut, his face scrunching up in thought. His memory was hazy and wishy-washy. He shook his head, opening his eyes. “Not really.” His face began to ache painfully, so he reached up to graze his skin with gentle fingers.

“Henry puh-puh-puh-punched you.”

Then, it all came rushing back to Eddie, and, oh, he supposed that Henry had. “Shit,” he breathed.

“Eddie,” Richie said, his voice cracking a bit, sounding a bit broken. “Are sure you’re okay?” He reached his hand up to Eddie’s face then tentatively pulled it away.

The world seemed to melt away from both Richie and Eddie, then. Ben and Bill disappeared into darkness and the school’s innate din became muted and soft. Eddie could only focus on the soft twinkle of Richie’s deep eyes and the concern that painted his voice so kindly.

Eddie sat there staring at Richie for seconds that were probably too long but that didn’t seem like it. After a long while, he nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Richie smiled slightly, but it looked a little pained. “Okay.” He said simply, sounding quite a bit breathless.

A sharp shove was administered to Richie and the moment between he and Eddie was shattered. It was Bill who had done it, and he said, “We should probably get back to class,” which caused Richie to throw a worried glance Eddie’s way.

“But he’s…”

“Fine.” Eddie filled in. He forced a smile. “I’m fine, I promise.”

-

“I don’t know what I’m gonna tell them,” Eddie frowned down at the concrete, letting the dark denim jacket sleeves fall over his hands. He shivered as a biting cold wind flowed through the earth, through Derry. His cheeks were growing red.

Richie looked thoughtfully at the smaller boy for a second before he slid his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulled him close, and for a moment Eddie looked shocked, but then he melted into Richie’s touch. Richie smiled, but it wasn’t obvious. It was something secret and small.

“Tell them the truth,” Richie suggested, looking out at the sky. It was grey and clouds blocked out any rays of warmth that the sun was trying to provide.

“The truth?” Eddie asked, incredulous, as if that wasn’t even an option.

“Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

At the question, Eddie’s mind spiraled. For starters, Eddie thought, his foster parents could pull him out of public school. Could lock him in his room, obsess over him, tell him that they know best, tell Eddie to mind himself---

Eddie sucked in a deep breath. Nonsense. That’s all that his mind was providing; nonsense. Rationally, he knew that Steven and Emily weren’t like Sonia. No, they wanted to provide him the proper care that a child of his age should receive. But still, he feared that things would take a sharp turn for the worse.

“Eds?”

Richie’s soft voice pulled Eddie from his musing, and Eddie looked up at him, studying his features with careful eyes, noticing their proximity. “Hm?” he hummed. He could see little puffs of breath coming out Richie’s mouth in grey smoke due to the cold.

Richie paused. “I don’t know.” He said, then turned to look away.

And maybe Eddie was just imagining it, or maybe it was just easier to convince himself that he had, but he swore that there were unspoken words hanging onto Richie’s lip. He swore that Richie was going to say something else, something more than “I don’t know.”

Silence settled between the two, then, and all that could be heard was the jingle of the keychains that were attached to Eddie’s backpack and the scuffing sound of rubber on concrete. The two walked like this for a good few minutes before Richie spoke up.

“There’s this...dance,” he said, sounding a little hesitant and unsure of himself.

Eddie perked up, then, his eyes widening a bit. Was Riching going to ask him to a dance!? His heart fluttered wildly at the idea. Suddenly, the image of Richie in a neat tuxedo dancing with him flashed in his mind, and he blushed a little bit.

“It’s in, like, two weeks. On December sixth. Bill and I are going and we were wondering if you wanted to tag along.” Richie finished.

As quickly as hope had bounded into Eddie, it fizzled away. “Oh,” Eddie forced a dry chuckle. “Um, sure, I can tag along.”

Richie beamed brightly, then turned away, trying to conceal the expression. He didn’t do a very good job of this, though, because Eddie saw the bright smile that stretched across his lips, and then there was that fluttering again.

It was beginning to grow harder and harder to deny his feelings for Richie, and past a point, he had stopped trying to. Maybe, Eddie had thought one late night, I just need to let myself feel these things. Crushes are normal, right? This is just a crush. It’ll go away.

-

Bill peered over the edge of the comic book that he was reading, and the flimsy paper fell over slightly at the corners due to the weight of the pages. His eyebrows rose on his pale forehead, and he asked, “Ruh-ruh-really?”

Richie, who was laying on his back on his bed with his head hanging over the edge of the mattress, adjusted his glasses. “Well, no, not really. I asked him if he wanted to tag along. But that’s better than nothing, right?”

Bill looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. “I-I-I-I guh-guh-guh-guh-guess. Maybe I sh-sh-should ask S-S-Stan if he w-w-wants to tag a-a-a-along, t-t-too.”

Richie smiled, nodding eagerly. His hair flung about wildly. “Do it! I swear, Big Bill, he likes you just as much as you like him. I swear over my grave!” Richie said enthusiastically.

From behind the comic book, Bill blushed. “Y-y-you think s-so?”

“Sure! I’ve seen the way you two look at each other,” Richie wiggled his eyebrows for dramatic effect. “Hell! When you two were dancing at the party, Stan was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“Richie!” Bill shrieked, flushing brightly. He threw his comic book at Richie’s face with an impressive amount of force and Richie’s glasses clattered to the ground.

“What?” Richie cried out, feigning offense. “It’s true!”

Bill buried his hands in his face, his cheeks burning wildly with embarrassment. “Sh-sh-shut up.”

Richie grinned, relishing in the fact that he was embarrassing Bill. He grabbed his glasses from the floor, slid them back on his face, and sat up, grabbing his phone which was lying idly on his bed. He knew that Bill would be pissed at him for what he was about to do, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. Stan _liked_ him! It was _obvious_!

_Richie: stan!!!!!!!!! stan the man !_   
_5:59 pm_   
_Richie: STANLEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_   
_6:00 pm_   
_Stan The Man: What do u want?_   
_6:01 pm_   
_Richie: Bill wanted 2 no if u wanted 2 go 2 the dance with him….._   
_6:01 pm_   
_Richie: im coming along and so is eddie_   
_Read, 6:01 pm_   
_Richie: stan??????????_   
_Read, 6:05 pm_   
_Richie: stanley dont ignore me >:(_   
_Read, 6:08 pm_   
_Stan The Man: Like, just with him or with u and eddie too?_   
_6:09 pm_   
_Richie: What?_   
_6:09 pm_   
_Stan The Man: Does bill want me to go with just him, or with you all as a group?_   
_6:10 pm_   
_Richie: wat do u think?_   
_6:11 pm_   
_Stan The Man: Richie…_   
_6:11 pm_   
_Stan The Man: I don’t know_   
_6:12 pm_   
_Richie: you do! come on, man_   
_6:12 pm_   
_Stan The Man: So what r u implying?_   
_6:13 pm_   
_Richie: i think u no wat im implying_   
_6:15 pm_   
_Stan The Man: I guess…why don’t you just come out and say it tho?_   
_6:16 pm_   
_Richie: just in case ;)_   
_6:16 pm_   
_Stan The Man: What???_   
_6:17 pm_   
_Richie: yes or no? will u go?_   
_6:19 pm_   
_Stan The Man: With bill?_   
_Read, 6:19 pm_   
_Stan The Man: Richie????_   
_Read, 6:22 pm_   
_Stan The Man: I’ll go…_   
_6:24 pm_   
_Stan The Man: With bill_   
_6:25 pm_   
_Richie: yes!!!!_   
_6:25 pm_   
_Stan The Man: ur mean :(_   
_6:26 pm_   
_Richie: u had 2 figure it out urself. if my hunch was wrong (wich it never is but IF) bill would’ve beat my ass. but u 2 r so obvious! of course i was right!_   
_6:27 pm_   
_Stan The Man: What so he really likes me too?_   
_6:28 pm_   
_Richie: yes!!!!!!!!!!! of course he does!!!!!!!!_   
_Stan The Man: I almost told him_   
_6:30 pm_   
_Stan The Man: When I was drunk_   
_6:30 pm_   
_Richie: that u lik him?_   
_6:31 pm_   
_Stan The Man: Yeah_   
_6:32 pm_   
_Richie: dam!!! u should’ve !!!! that would’ve made my job way easier lol!_

_Richie grinned, looking over at Bill. He had engrossed himself back into his comic book and he was concentrating very hard on the pictures and text. His eyebrows were drawn together tightly. Richie was about to shatter his stony exterior._

_“Hey! Big Bill!”_

_Bill glanced up, looking unamused. “What, Richie?”_

_“You’ve got a date to the winter dance.”_

_“Richie, wha…Richie!”_

_Well, Bill beat his ass anyway._


	10. Little Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE ARE THE SONGSS 
> 
> Marlboro Nights - Lonely God 
> 
> The Only Exception - Paramore
> 
> Tattooed Tears - The Front Bottoms
> 
> Sorry for the absence! I was working on nanowrimo for my creative writing class then I got really burnt out. I guess for some people forcing yourself to write a ton is good but for me it just hinders things. And I was so burnt out that I didn't want to write this either :(. I just said "fuck it" and gave up on nanowrimo even though I liked the story a lot. Maybe I'll come back to it... 
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will be cute as fuck. Lots of pining, I can assure you. I'm a slut for pining. I'm not proud of this, because, again, nanowrimo killed me, but here it is.

_ Richie <3: edssssssssss _

_ 10:46 pm _

_ Richie <3: EDDDIIIEEEE !!! _

_ 10:50 pm _

_ Eddie: What, Richie? I’m trying to sleep. _

_ 10:50 pm _

_ Richie <3: Oh, I was bored. that’s all. just wanted to talk :)) _

_ 10:51 pm _

_ Richie <3: but u can go to bed. I’ll see u 2 morrow at school.  _

_ 10:51 pm _

_ Eddie: No, it’s okay. We can talk.  _

_ 10:53 pm _

_ Richie <3: okay!!!!!!!! _

_ 10:54 pm _

_ Eddie: What do you want to talk about? _

_ 10:54 pm _

_ Richie <3: ohhhhhhhh, I don’t know…….. _

_ 10:55 pm  _

_ Richie <3: how’s ur face feeling???? _

_ 10:55 pm _

_ Eddie: Okay, I guess. My eye began to swell up and bruise and so did my nose.  _

_ 10:56 pm _

_ Eddie: Henry got me good, I guess.  _

_ 10:56 pm _

_ Riche <3: Yeah, but ur the first person i’ve ever seen stand up 2 him. and that’s fucking awesome eds!!!! _

_ 10:57 pm _

_ Eddie: Really? _

_ 10:58 pm _

_ Richie <3: Yea!  _

_ 10:59 pm _

_ Richie <3: but don’t ever do that again. u scared the shit out of me _

_ 10:59 pm _

_ Eddie: I’m fine, though.  _

_ 11:01 pm _

_ Richie <3: yeah but still….. _

_ 11:02 pm _

_ Eddie: Hey, did you do the homework for Mrs. Ellision’s class?  _

_ 11:04 pm _ _   
_ _ Richie <3: GASP!!!! DID SOMEONE NOT DO HIS HOMEWORK????? _

_ 11:04 pm _

_ Eddie: Yeah, I forgot.  _

_ 11:06 pm _

_ Richie <3: well i got u! I did the homework. i can’t promise it’s right tho _

_ Read, 11:07 pm _

_ Richie <3: Eds?  _

_ 11:10 pm _

_ Eddie: Sorry, I fell asleep a bit.  _

_ 11:11 pm _

_ Richie <3: awwwww~~~ someone’s sleepie! _

_ 11:11 pm _

_ Eddie: Shut up, Richie.  _

_ Richie <3: okay! _

_ 11:12  _

_ Richie <3: you should go to sleep! _

_ 11:12 pm _

_ Eddie: I thought you wanted to talk, though? _

_ 11:15 pm _

_ Richie <3: I do! but ur tired! and i think u should sleep. _

_ 11:16 pm _

_ Richie <3: besides!!!! I don’t want u falling asleep in class tomorrow!!! U gotta keep ur grades up!!! _

_ 11:16 pm _

_ Eddie: Are you sure, Rich? _

_ 11:19 pm _

_ Richie <3: yes! I need my eddie wellllll rested _

_ 11:20 pm _

_ Eddie: Alright… _

_ 11:21 pm _

_ Eddie: Night, Richie.  _

_ 11:21 pm _

_ Richie <3: Gooooddnight eddddiiie <3333333 _

_ 11:21 pm _

Eddie yawned, his mouth opening so wide to do so that it ached slightly. He clasped his hands together over his phone and placed them on his chest, blinking up at his ceiling. In the dark, his eyes were playing tricks on him, so it looked like the ceiling was moving. 

It didn’t take long for Eddie to doze off once more, and soon he was drifting off into a beautiful dreamscape. The scene was something straight out of a movie; he and Richie were sitting in a meadow on a hill, looking out at the beautiful view. The sun was setting, painting the sky with magnificent colours and shades of gold and orange. A phantom breeze blew through the air, bending the delicate white daisies that were growing. Richie was laughing, presumably at something that Eddie had said. 

Eddie smiled at him softly, “What?” he asked, and Richie laughed a bit harder. 

“You’re just so funny, Eds!” Richie exclaimed, and Eddie smiled a little more, unsure of what to make of his friend. Soon, Richie’s laughter died down and a small smile settled on his lips. He turned to look at Eddie, his eyes twinkling softly. The sun was casting a wonderful warm glow onto his pale skin, lighting him up, making him look completely and utterly ethereal. “You’re perfect.” He said firmly, and Eddie’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly.

“Richie---” Eddie cut himself off as soon as the word left his mouth, watching carefully as leaned in slightly. The space between the two was getting smaller and smaller and Eddie’s heart began to beat faster and faster, and it was beating so hard that he thought he might have a heart attack then and there. And then, just before Richie’s lips had a chance to press against his own, he was shaken awake by the sound of his alarm clock blaring at him mercilessly. 

Eddie started so hard that he fell over the edge of his mattress and let out a pained gasp as his chest came into contact with the carpeted floor of his room. The carpet did nothing to break his fall. After a moment of trying to steady his breathing, he pushed himself up from the floor, then he remembered his dream. 

Heat rushed to his cheeks as he thought about it all. About how beautiful Richie looked in the dream, about him leaning forward slowly, about how his lips would feel on Eddie’s. And Eddie was falling hard; he knew this. He didn’t want to be falling this hard, but he was, and it felt nice but it also sort of hurt. 

Logically, he knew that there was pretty much no chance that Richie would reciprocate his feelings, and that made something cold settle within Eddie, because then he thought about Richie being with someone who wasn’t him, like a girl. A pretty girl. She’d make Richie laugh in ways that Eddie could only dream of. She’d get to hold his hand and kiss his lips and go on romantic dates to small town diners like couples did in the movies. 

It wasn’t only the fact that he was guy, though. He was sure that even  _ if  _ Richie was into guys he’d be deterred by just how fucked up Eddie was. Eddie tried to keep it all at bay, but somehow the bad thoughts and dark feelings managed to ebb into his life despite his best efforts. 

-

Eddie hadn’t expected people to care so much, but they did. Some kids high-fived him. Some called him a hero. Some even asked him how he did it. Suffice to say, it was all a bit overwhelming to Eddie. He had never gotten so much attention before. 

Richie seemed a bit wary of it all. Whenever a kid would come up to Eddie he’d take a step closer or toss his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. When Eddie asked him about it, Richie had just shrugged and said, “I guess I don’t want you to get decked in the face again.”

_ Oh _ , Eddie had thought, feeling warmth explode within him. He didn’t know why he was so shocked to hear that Richie didn’t want to get punched again, but he was, and it sort of made him realize that Richie cared. And that made him feel good. 

At the start of first period, after Mrs. Ellison had passed out their class work, Richie and Eddie asked to work on it in the library. Eddie supposed it was because of the darkening bruise that had been smacked across his face that had made her say yes. It was a little embarrassing but, over all, he wasn’t too mad about getting his way. 

The library was warm and quaint and Eddie was a little awestruck by it. It was huge and had two floors. The walls were colourful and various pieces of handmade decor adorned the place.

“It’s big,” Eddie said, a little breathlessly, as the two entered through the glass doors. He was too busy looking around the library to notice how Richie was looking at him. 

When Eddie turned to look back at Richie, Richie tore his gaze away, looking down at the carpeted floor. “Sure is,” he told the ground, feeling a bit sheepish for staring at Eddie like he had been. He really needed to get it together. 

The two found a cozy table towards the back of the library behind rows and rows of fiction novels. They had set out to do their work, but after a few minutes of solving equations, both grew bored. Richie suggested they play Go Fish---he had a pack of cards in his backpack---but Eddie just laughed at him and shook his head. 

“Well what do  _ you _ want to do?” Richie asked as he doodled on the corner of a piece of paper. He flicked his eyes up, looking at Eddie through his eyelashes. 

“I dunno,” Eddie flicked his eyes around the library for a moment. He scanned a poster for the book  _ 1984 _ then looked back over at Richie. “Let’s just talk.” 

“Okay, about what?” Richie asked and Eddie simply shrugged. At this, Richie shook his head in amusement. “Fine, who’s your favourite band?” 

The smaller boy looked thoughtful for a moment before he smiled brightly and said, “Abba!” 

“Abba?” Richie grinned, and his heart fluttered as he studied every detail of Eddie’s face. The way his freckles contorted with his smile, the way his eyes twinkled brightly. He was...beautiful, Richie thought. Simply beautiful. 

“Sure!” Eddie exclaimed, “They’re great!” 

Richie had never listened to them before but he was totally convinced that they  _ were _ great simply by Eddie’s words. He leaned forward, resting his chin in the cup of his hand and smiled a bit, “Yeah?” 

The expression on Eddie’s face softened with something fond. He glanced down at his lap where his hands were sat on his thighs, then back up at Richie. His heart was thudding heavily in his chest. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “What’s  _ your _ favourite band?” 

Richie nibbled on his bottom lip in consideration before he shook his head a bit. “I don’t think I can pick just  _ one _ . I love too many, y’know?” 

“Sure,” Eddie said, but he really didn’t know. He hadn’t been allowed to back when he was living with Sonia, so he never really got the chance to love any band or artist. Since he got to Derry, though, he had been absorbing as much of it as he could, falling down online rabbit holes of music of various genres, clicking from one song to another. He had listened to Christmas music and alternative rock and pop, and though it all had been a little overwhelming, he thought that he had liked Abba’s music the most. 

Silence fell between the two and Eddie looked thoughtful for a moment before excitement flashed across his features. “Richie!” he exclaimed as lowly as he could, not wanting to disturb anyone else in the library. 

Richie smiled, Eddie’s excitement proving to be awfully contagious. “Yeah?” 

  
“You should come over for a sleepover!” 

  
  


-

Emily quirked an eyebrow, setting her purse down on the kitchen table with a contemplative expression crossing her features. “A sleepover?” she questioned, unsure of where this all was coming from. She hadn’t known that her foster son had made such a good friend---this was all quite the shock. She had expected him to take longer than two weeks to settle in so soundly. 

Eddie beamed. “Yeah! He’s awesome---I  _ swear! _ He tells me about music and movies and he even helps me work my cell phone!” 

Emily smiled, her foster son’s expression causing her heart to glow brightly. She was happy that he was happy, she was just nervous. After hearing the horrid details of what she liked to call his Past Life, she found herself to be protective over him. Never to the extent that Sonia was---if that’s what you could even call it---but protective nonetheless. She felt nervous that Eddie might fall into harm’s way once more. 

“Well, what’s his name?” she asked, trying to take the strain out of her voice. 

“Richie Tozier!” 

Emily was pleasantly surprised by that. She worked with Richie’s mother---Ellise. She and Ellise weren’t best friends, but she’d say they were close. They often chatted over their lunch breaks and complained about their boss with each other over the phone after work. Ellise knew of Eddie’s arrival, and Emily knew a bit about Ellise’s son, mainly that he struggled with depression and gender dysphoria. 

Despite his struggles, Richie was a good kid, and Emily was glad that Eddie had found him. 

“Ah,” Emily smiled. “Sure. He can come over.” 

The grin on Eddie’s face grew wider. He bounced up and down on the balls of his toes, “Really!?”

“Sure,” Emily patted his head. “Now go clean up your room before he comes; it’s a mess.” 

-

  
  


“Wow,” Richie said as he stepped into Eddie’s room, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He grinned. “I can't believe I’m in  _ Eddie Kaspbrak’s  _ bedroom!” 

Eddie rolled his eyes turning to him. “Shut up.” He flicked his eyes down to Richie’s bag that was bulging with its contents. “What’d you bring?” 

“ _ Everything! _ ” Richie’s eyes grew wide and he waved his arms around rapidly, practically buzzing with excitement. 

Eddie laughed Richie’s absurdity, a small blush spreading across his cheeks. He honestly couldn’t believe that he had such a huge crush on such a big nerd. “You’re a loser,” Eddie giggled, smiling a bit coyly. 

“Well sure, but who isn’t? --- Oh! I brought a ton of horror movies!” Richie exclaimed, excitement painting his tone. 

Eddie shrunk down a bit at this. He had never any horror movies before, and he didn’t quite understand the concept of them. Why watch something that would scare you? What was the point? 

“Relax, Eds,” Richie chuckled, patting Eddie on the shoulder. “I’ll protect you if you get scared.” After he said this, he winked, causing Eddie’s blush to deepen. Richie smiled at this, fondness twinkling in his eyes. “I also stole some of my mom’s romantic comedies. So, if that peaks your interest.” 

Eddie blinked up at Richie, feeling a little stupid. “Romantic comedies?” 


	11. I Think I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEWOO! 
> 
> SONGS 
> 
> King and Lionheart - Of Monsters and Men   
Vacation town - TFB   
Out of My League - Fitz and the Tantrums  
I see the Light - Tangled 
> 
> HI! I really fucking hope you like this chapter. Your guy's comments are seriously so, so motivating. I saw the ones on last chapter and I started writing this one immediately! I tried to get it out as fast as I could!!!
> 
> ALSO! I've thought up another high school AU because...well, I'm a slut for high school AUs. It's uber cute! It started b/c I was drawing in different styles and BASICALLY their characters are 
> 
> Bev - she's a 2000s fashion fiend, junior hottie and popular girl, and a bit of a bitch. 
> 
> Stan - he's good at math and science and being what his parents want him to be, but he's not very happy with who he is. 
> 
> Mike - he won't take anyone's shit. He's soft hearted and has an affinity for animals and helping others. 
> 
> Ben - he's a total bookworm and history nerd. A bit of a loner, but not by choice.Has a massive crush on Beverly (ofc)
> 
> Bill - he draws all the time on every piece of paper that he can get. He's in an ongoing battle with depression which makes him come off as stony, but he's got a big heart. He's also stubborn. 
> 
> Richie - most people think he's a punk, but he applies himself to school and tries his best not to rock the boat or cause trouble. His main goal for the rest of junior year is to lay low and quit smoking (which is not an easy feat).
> 
> Eddie - he's so smart that he skipped freshman year. Best friends with Stanley. Loves animals, english, and crop tops. 
> 
> FJEfebeubfa
> 
> I hope those characters sound INTERESTING! I really wanna write it!! okay, bye!

Horror movies weren’t Eddie’s thing. He had realized this, well, immediately, but he didn’t want to disappoint Richie, so he hadn’t said anything. Now, he was facing the consequences. Apprehension was stirring in the pit of his stomach as wailing cries erupted from a baby monitor on the screen. The actress’s face contorted with worry and fear and so did Eddie’s.

He snuggled further into the blanket that he was wrapped in, bringing the soft fabric up to his face, ready to shield his eyes if needed. His heart was pounding frightfully in his chest, and right as he felt he was about to pass out from how scared he was, the movie paused and he felt Richie’s hand settle gently on his thigh. 

“Are you alright?” Richie leaned over, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows were pulled together tightly. 

“I’m f-fine,” Eddie squeaked out in a less than convincing manner. 

Richie threw Eddie a skeptical look, “We can turn off the movie if you want.” 

Eddie held his breath for a moment, then let it out, feeling tense. “But---” he began, afraid that if he didn’t persevere he’d upset Richie. 

“Besides, we can always watch this.” Richie cut him off, holding up a movie that Eddie had never seen before. 

It was a romantic comedy, and Eddie hadn’t known what that meant at first, but Richie had explained to him simply that romantic comedies were cheesy romance movies that middle aged woman watched while eating chocolate and drinking red wine. That really hadn’t cleared up Eddie’s confusion but he had nodded along to the explanation regardless, afraid of coming off as ignorant. 

The cover of the movie had a woman on it in a pink, short nightgown, high heels, and a small jacket. She smiled gleefully, her squinted eyes burning into Eddie’s. Large font read  _ 13 Going on 30.  _ Eddie blinked at the DVD, and the woman on the front stared back at him, her expression unchanging.

“Oh,” Eddie said limply, unsure of what to say or do. He glanced over that the movie that Richie had paused, then back at the DVD in his hand and said, “We can watch that.” Then, he quickly added, “If you want.” 

Richie smiled softly, “I want whatever you want, Eds. And besides, I wouldn’t want you to have nightmares tonight.” As he stood up, he ruffled Eddie’s hair gently. The action caused heat to rush to Eddie’s cheeks and his heart to flutter. 

Eddie watched carefully as Richie switched out the movies, being sure to stare just the right amount so that he could track Richie’s movements but not get caught doing so. He felt a little lightheaded, then, thinking about how close he and Richie had been sitting on the couch. Thinking about how Richie was spending the night. He wondered vaguely what the lanky boy would look like the next morning, his face dewy with sleep and his hair wild and messy. At the thought, Eddie blushed even more. 

Once Richie had started the movie up, he returned back to the couch, plopping down on it so that he was closer to Eddie than he had been before. Richie didn’t seem to notice, but Eddie sure had. Their torsos were pressed against each other, and Eddie’s skin felt like it was on fire but in the best way. It took all of his resolve not to snuggle closer to Richie. 

As soon as the movie started, Eddie could decisively say that he liked romantic comedies more than he liked horror movies, and if that made him a middle aged woman who ate chocolate and drank red wine then so be it. He laughed at all the right times, and felt teary at all the right times, and then when the end of the movie came around he actually did shed a few tears. The whole time he had been so engrossed that he hadn’t even noticed the fact that Richie had been watching him more than he had watched the movie. 

Once the film came to a close Eddie smiled and Richie asked, “Did you like it?”

Eddie turned to look at his friend, nodding. “A lot.” He looked thoughtful for a moment before he questioned, “So...now what?” 

“I don’t know,” Richie gazed off to the side, spacing out a little bit. His eyes became distant and far away before he smiled and blinked himself back into reality. “Wait, yes I do.” 

Eddie quirked an eyebrow. “What?” 

“It’s a secret.” 

Richie ended up explaining that they’d need to sneak out, which caused anxiety to stir inside of Eddie’s chest. He was nervous, but Richie seemed so sure of himself, and so exuberant, too. How could Eddie not agree? How could he not slip out of the front door after Richie. And how could he not notice how Richie offered him his hand quickly, on impulse, before he pulled it away, looking unsure of himself. 

“Um,” Eddie said flatly, standing on the concrete step that stood just outside the front door. He looked down at Richie’s hand, then back up at Richie. It was dark, but the light fixtures hanging on either side of the door provided enough of a glow so that Eddie could see that a blush had painted Richie’s cheeks. 

“Sorry, not everyone wants to---um,” Richie cut himself off, looking a bit desperate for something to happen and dissolve the awkwardness. 

Suddenly, a boost of confidence flooded into Eddie. He smiled slightly, something small and a little secretive, and reached forward to grab Richie’s hand. He tugged on it gently, then said, “Lead the way.” In response, Richie grinned widely, then he spun around and began to lead pull Eddie in what seemed to be a random direction. 

The night was cool and silent. No cars were rushing down streets and no animals were chattering or scavenging for food. Eddie thought briefly that it seemed like he and Richie were the only two people on the planet. The idea was sweet and romantic, but it was also easy. It was easy to pretend that Richie was the only other one out there, because Richie was nice and patient and funny. He was all the company that you could want and more. He was perfect, to put it simply. Perfect in every way. 

“You cold?” Richie asked softly as a small breeze whistled through the earth, rattling the colourful autumn leaves that were still attached to the branches of trees. 

Eddie hummed for a second, gazing up at the sky. The stars winked down at him. “Not really.” 

“Okay,” Richie cleared his throat, looking down at he and Eddie’s linked hands. His heart was pounding hard against his chest and he felt like he couldn’t properly inhale. He wanted to pull Eddie close and wrap him up in his arms. He wanted to run his fingers through Eddie’s hair---it looked so  _ damn  _ soft! And he sort of wanted to kiss Eddie, too. But he couldn’t dwell on the thought for too long before his cheeks were burning again and he was feeling a bit lightheaded. 

“So, where are we going?"

  
“I told you, Eds; it’s a secret.” 

“Psh,” Eddie huffed, swinging he and Richie’s linked hands. “Sure it is.” 

“Fine,” Richie relented, smiling at how stubborn Eddie was. “It’s just a place I used to go when I wanted to be alone. I had sort of forgotten about it until I realized that you lived so close to it.” Richie explained as the two began to veer into forested territory. The loud sound of leaves crunching under their feet bled into the quiet of the night and Richie tossed a glance at Eddie, noticing the small smile that sat on his lips. 

The tall boy let out a dreamy sigh, trying his hardest not to explode with happiness. After all, he was holding Eddie’s hand, and Eddie was  _ smiling _ . And they were going to go to the treehouse that he and his father had built long, long ago together to talk and maybe watch the stars. It was sort of something that had jumped straight out of a romance novel---except, well, there were things that Richie didn’t really want to think about. So he wasn’t (or at least he was trying not to). He was just going to focus on how Eddie made him feel, and on how pretty Eddie was, and on how Eddie’s pajamas were a few sizes too big and how cute that was.

Vaguely, Richie wondered if this was what love felt like. He wasn’t sure. He loved his mom, and he loved Bill, but this felt very different from that kind of love. Bill didn’t make his chest constrict and flutter at the same time and he certainly didn’t want to hold his mom’s hand forever. It just wasn’t comparable; it didn’t seem definable. 

“Eddie?” Richie asked softly, and they were beginning to approach the treehouse. It was perched between two tree trunks and built with boards of plywood. A small, creaky staircase led up to it, and the inside was completely bare except for a bunch of leaves and browned pine needles. 

Eddie blinked at the back of Richie’s head for a moment, a little caught off guard by his voice. “Yeah?” 

Richie stopped in front of the staircase looking down at it blankly while his mind worked through what he wanted to ask slowly. Somewhere during the process, he had noticed that Eddie hadn’t let go of his hand even though they had arrived at their destination; this served to make him more nervous. 

“Um---nevermind.” 

“No, tell me.” Eddie urged, his interest peaked.

“Uh, okay,” Richie breathed out anxiously, absentmindedly tapping his thumb against Eddie’s hand. “Have you ever been in love?” 

Eddie was a bit taken aback by the question. “What?”

“Nevermind,” Richie said quickly, his eyes widening. He wondered why he had even asked the question; it was stupid and would only serve to make Eddie suspicious. “It was stu---”

“I haven’t.” Eddie cut him off, sounding a little contemplative. “Why?” 

Richie cleared his throat, staring down at his feet for a moment. He stepped up onto the first stair before he admitted, “I guess I just wanted to know what being in love feels like. But it was dumb.” 

“Okay.” Eddie said, still a little confused about the conversation that was taking place. He watched for a moment as Richie began up the wooden steps that creaked under his weight before he followed behind him. 

When Richie reached the doorway, he stood there for a moment just taking in the sight of the old treehouse. He hadn’t been in it in years, mainly because bad memories tended to lurk there, but tonight felt different. He had been drawn to the old thing and he hadn’t been able to push it from his mind since he had turned the corner down Meadowbrook Drive. Memories had flooded into his mind---most unwanted. 

See, his dad was an ass. He was a transphobic piece of shit who had had a bad habit of taking his problems out on Richie and his mother. He had up and left Richie’s life when Richie had been thirteen. After years of neglect, Richie had thought that he would be happy---no, ecstatic---when his father had finally walked out of his life, but it was hard. It was hard to not have that sort of bond, even if it was a bit surface level. Richie had let himself enjoy the things that he could as best as he could before everything had fallen apart. After he had left there was this hole within Richie that he didn’t quite understand. He cried, too, and he wasn’t really sure why. 

Jackson Tozier was a complete and utter asshole, and yet, to this day, Richie sort of missed him. It didn’t make sense; he just did. 

Richie didn’t even notice the warm, salty tears rolling down his cheeks until Eddie had pointed them out. Immediately, in a fit of panic, he brought his hands up to his cheeks and wiped the tears away, sniffling a bit. The absence of Eddie’s hand in his left his palm feeling cold and lonely; it wasn’t a sensation that he liked.   
  
“Rich? Are you alright?” Eddie asked quietly. 

Richie stayed silent for a moment before he opted to ignore the question. “I used to come here a lot when I was younger. I built the place with my dad.” 

“You did?” Eddie sounded a bit awestruck, as though building a crappy treehouse was some great accomplishment. 

“Yeah,” Richie walked forward into the small building. He crouched down a bit so that he could fit under the roof properly. After pushing a pile of dead leaves to the side, he sat down on the rotting wooden floor and looked up. There were cracks in the roof where streaks of silver gleamed through from the stars. “I haven’t been here in awhile.” 

Eddie sat down next to Richie. He took a minute to study the boy before he let out a sigh. “I’m glad you brought me here.” 

“Really?” 

“Sure. I can tell this place is special to you, and I think that’s cool. And that also means that it’s special to me.”

Richie smiled softly, turning to look at his friend. “Thanks, Eds. You’re pretty great, you know that?” 

Eddie laughed coyly, shaking his head. “Yeah, alright,” he replied sarcastically, his cheeks beginning to burn. 

“I mean it, you doofus!” Richie scolded, shoving Eddie with his shoulder. 

This caused Eddie to laugh loudly and grin. He shoved Richie back, “Shut up!” 

Richie smiled softly, unable to keep the fondness that he was feeling at bay any longer. For awhile he wondered how he could fall for someone so hard and so fast, but now he realized that it was terribly easy to fall in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. And, sitting on the floor of the treehouse that held good memories, but also some bad, Richie also realized that maybe he didn’t need to know what being in love felt like to know that this was that. 

-

When the two snuck back into the house they traveled upstairs to Eddie’s bedroom to prepare to wind down for the night. The venture outside left them both shivering wildly and they both agreed that getting tucked in would do them some good. The only issue was…

“I feel  _ bad _ .” 

Richie looked up from the pile of tangled blankets that was lying at his feet, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. “What?” 

“I’m sleeping in this nice bed and you’re sleeping on the floor and---ugh,” Eddie brought his hand up to his mouth so that he could bite at his nails viciously---it was a bad habit that he had picked up since he had moved to Derry. His nails were getting shorter and his cuticles were getting more inflamed. 

The situation was making him anxious. He knew what it felt like to sleep on a lumpy, worn mattress, and he knew what it felt like to sleep on the floor---neither were comfortable, and the thought of putting Richie through that made him feel, well, a bit like shit. He knew sleeping on the floor was a normal occurrence at sleepovers (only because Emily had told him so), but that fact didn’t quite matter to him. 

Richie smiled a little, “Eddie, it’s alright. I’m fine sleeping on the floor.” 

Eddie ran the tip of his tongue over the back of his lip stud---another habit he had picked up---and crossed his arms. “I disagree.”    
  
An incredulous laugh escaped from between Richie’s lips. “You disagree?” he repeated. 

“Yes. It’s not fair.” 

Richie laughed once more, “Eddie, I’m  _ fine _ .”   
  
“Well  _ I’m  _ not. I don’t want you to hurt your back or something!”

Richie stared at Eddie for a long moment. His arms were crossed tightly and his too big pajamas were drooping off of him adorably. He had a very determined look on his face that made Richie relent. “Fine. Well, then what do you propose I do?” 

“Take the bed,” Eddie motioned towards his bed. It was made neatly and mounds of pillows and a couple of stuffed animals littered the mattress. 

“I couldn’t.”    
  
“You  _ will _ .”

“But then  _ I’ll  _ feel bad.”    
  
Eddie looked dumbfounded for a moment, as if he had never considered this option. After thinking for a second his face grew very tight and he muttered, “I’ll be right back,” before he stalked off out of his room. When he returned a mountain of blankets was perched in his arms along with a couple of big, fluffy pillows. He dropped everything on top of the blankets that sat in front of Richie before he got to work, leaving Richie a bit confused. 

First, Eddie laid down four large blankets to create padding. Then he spread out the extra five blankets on top of those four so that Richie would be warm and insulated. After that, he neatly set down the pillows, then he grabbed a stuffed animal off of his bed. He went to hand the thing to Richie before he hesitated and pulled his arms back, and uneasy expression crossing his face. 

It was a bunny. It was cream and tan and had a small pink bow around its neck. It was soft and warm, and Eddie had gotten it his first day in Derry. It sort of meant a lot to him. “Here,” he said, extending his arms once more. “You can sleep with him, but please be careful.” 

Richie took the stuffed animal gently, his eyes growing wide and liquidy. Oh, how Eddie made his heart flutter. He was simply too precious. “I will. Thank you, Eds.” 

Richie let Eddie tuck him in (well, not really let. More so, Eddie forced him to) and make sure that he was completely comfortable before he flicked the lights off and settled himself in.

“Good night, Richie,” Eddie mumbled sleepily. 

“Goodnight, Eds.” 

And though he’d never admit it to a single soul, the words “I love you” rested on the tip of Richie’s tongue until they dissolved into nothingness as he faded into a deep, peaceful sleep. 


	12. Little White Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs!!!
> 
> Peach (lobotomy) - Waterparks
> 
> Stupid for you - Waterparks
> 
> Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos
> 
> HIIII! Another update! I'm also working on that high school AU OWO 
> 
> Heres a snippet !
> 
> He handed her the pack, and she slid one of the slim sticks from it before handing it back to him. Richie pulled a cigarette from the carton and placed it between his lips, lighting her cigarette before he lit his own. He inhaled, still looking a bit upset about something. 
> 
> “What’s wrong?” Beverly questioned before she took a long drag over her cigarette. She looked over at Richie, studying him and how he stared down at the poisonous stick of tobacco in an aggravated manner before he lifted it back to his lips and inhaled. 
> 
> “I’m trying to quit smoking,” he informed, sounding quite a bit solemn. 
> 
> Beverly cast him an amused look, quirking her eyebrow as her lips curled up into a small smile. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it.” She informed flatly. 
> 
> Richie rolled his eyes. “I know.” He replied, looking wholly unamused by her comment. He took another drag from his cigarette and then looked at it again, frowning. “It’s really hard,” he told her, pretending for a moment that she cared even though he knew she probably didn’t.
> 
> ALRIGHT BYE

When Richie awoke, the first thing that he noticed was that he was staring up at a ceiling that was decidedly not his. For a moment he was confused, but then he remembered the night before, and oh, he was in Eddie’s bedroom. 

He sat up a little, then fell bad down due to the weight of the blankets on his torso. After trying again to sit up, he found himself successful, but he also found that Eddie was no longer in his bed. He stood up, letting all of the blankets that once covered his body fall to the ground. He had also dropped Eddie’s stuffed bunny, but he remembered his friend’s warning and decided not to leave it lying there on the ground. Carefully, Richie picked the stuffed animal up and placed it on Eddie’s bed, propped up against his pillow. 

He grabbed his glasses off of Eddie’s nightstand and slipped them on, then he opened the door a crack, peering out into the hallway hesitantly. The smell of bacon, pancakes, and eggs wafted up into Richie’s nose. He let out a dreamy exhale when a sharp pain stabbed into his ribs. He let out a whine as he realized abruptly that he had slept in his binder because he had forgotten to take it off, but also there was no way in hell that he would’ve even if he  _ had  _ remembered. He never took his binder off around anyone except for Bill, and even those times were rare. 

Despite the pain, Richie inhaled deeply, wincing before he exited Eddie’s room. He felt like his ribs might break, and there was a possibility of that happening which sort of made him feel like shit but he pushed the thought from his mind. 

“Eddie?” Richie called as he began to slowly make his way down the hall. 

“I’m in the kitchen, Rich!” Eddie replied, causing a small smile to tug at Richie’s lips. 

He hopped down the stairs then padded into the kitchen, peeking around the corner to find Eddie stirring around something in a frying pan as he hummed and swayed his hips a little in dance. His pajama pants were hanging low on his hips and his shirt had ridden up so that a pale strip of skin was visible. 

Richie blinked, blushing a little before he stepped into the kitchen. “Hi.” He said limply, watching with careful yet eager eyes as Eddie spun around and smiled at him brightly. He looked young with sleep and his hair was wild and messy. 

“Hi! I’m making breakfast!” Eddie beamed, holding a metal spatula tightly in his hand. “I’ve never done it before; I hope it turns out well!”

“I’m sure it will,” Richie smiled. “It smells good.” 

Eddie turned back around, pushing the scrambled eggs around in the cast iron pan. They were almost the perfect consistency. He grabbed another spatula and handed it to Richie. “Could you put the bacon on the paper towels over there?”

“Sure,” Richie did as he was told, carefully transferring the bacon from its frying pan to the paper towels that Eddie had laid out on a plate. Briefly, he thought about marrying Eddie when he was older, and how they’d do this on Saturday and Sunday mornings. They’d sit down and eat their breakfast together and Richie would keep thinking about how lucky he was to have Eddie and Eddie would say something that would most certainly be endearing. 

Eddie pushed the eggs around a little bit more before he decided that they were cooked properly. He picked up the frying pan and poured them out onto a large plate so that they wouldn’t continue to cook in the heated pan. “Do you want me to serve you?” Eddie asked, glancing over at Richie. 

Richie’s heart became so full, but all he could really do was smile a little and shake his head. “I’m good, Eds. Thanks for the offer, though.” 

At the table, Richie sat down across from Eddie. He poured an ungodly amount of sugary maple syrup on his pancakes and drizzled some on his bacon before he dug in. “Oh my god!” Richie exclaimed as he shoveled a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “This is amazing, Eds!” he smiled, but quickly his expression dropped and twisted into something pained. The sharpness in his ribs was back. 

“Richie?” Eddie asked softly, setting his own fork down. He reached across the table, grazing the back of Richie’s hand with his fingertips. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” Richie croaked out, pulling his hand from the table so that he could cover the spot on his ribs where the pain was. “I’ve just...gotta go to the bathroom.” He stood up, his eyes scrunching up as he took a breath. Now Richie was wondering if he actually  _ did  _ break his ribs. 

Once in the bathroom, Richie pulled off his shirt, then struggled with his binder for a moment before he finally got it off. Dark purple bruises littered his pale skin, and as he ran his fingers over them and felt more pain bud under the discoloured flesh. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered, not quite knowing what to do. He didn’t want to put his binder back on, but he couldn’t go out without one. He couldn’t let Eddie know and----he was going to have to leave.

For a long, painstaking moment, Richie pulled his binder back on, letting out soft whines and cries when it pressed on the bruises. He slid his shirt back on then made his way back out of the bathroom. When he returned to the kitchen Eddie looked at him expectantly. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

Richie blinked at him for a moment before he swallowed thickly. “I have to go.”

“What?” Eddie stood up, shoving his chair backwards as he did so. His eyes grew wide and panicked and he walked swiftly up to Richie to examine him for any ailments. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, Eddie, I just have to---” Richie cut himself off, sighing. He looked off to the side for a second before he returned his gentle gaze to Eddie, frowning. “I have to go.” 

“Can’t you at least finish your breakfast?”

“Now, Eddie. I have to go now.” He exhaled, and the pain was back, sharp and persistent. 

“Richie,” Eddie tried, looking a little desperate. 

“I’m sorry,” Richie deflated, wrapping his arms around himself. “I had fun, something just came up.” 

Eddie stared at Richie for a moment before he relented. “Okay,” he said, sounding sad. The sound caused Richie’s heart to ache, so now he was hurting all over. And that was  _ fine _ . Just  _ peachy _ . 

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” Richie looked contemplative for a moment before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s unruly hair. He forced a smile and then rushed off to gather up his stuff. 

-

“Richie, let me see!” 

“ _ No _ ! I’m fine, ma, they’re just  _ bruises _ .” 

Mrs. Tozier let out an exasperated breath. “You may think that now but---” 

_ “Ma.”  _

“At least see a doctor.  _ Please,  _ honey.” 

“No!” Richie balled up his fists, his features hardening with irritation. He was already worked up by the fact that he had to leave Eddie earlier than he wanted to, he didn’t need his mother’s worrying piled on top of that.

“Richie---” 

“Ma, I’m  _ fine. _ ” Richie said firmly. He scanned his mother’s tired face for a second, and then his features softened. His shoulders drooped and he sighed. “I’m really fine. I just shouldn’t have slept in my binder.” 

Mrs. Tozier pushed a hand through her hair, shaking her head. “It’s fine; it was a mistake. It just stresses me out. You know that,” she said, the fondness in her voice was clear. “But you’ll be done with binding soon anyway, so---”

Richie’s eyes bulged out of their sockets and he adjusted his glasses, “What?” 

“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Mrs. Tozier questioned, realization flashing across her face. “I guess I’ve been so caught up in work lately that I forgot to. I scheduled you a consultation for top surgery.” 

Richie’s jaw dropped and his mind went blank. He wasn’t sure how to react to such a momentous thing. Something that he had waited years and years for was, at this point, well on its way, and he hadn’t even known about it. 

“Holy shit,” the boy breathed, shock taking over. 

“Richie! Language,” his mother scolded, but she didn’t sound or look angry. A little smile had made its way onto her face. 

“Sorry, mom! I just---” It took a moment for Richie to process things before a bright, wide smile burst onto his face. Like the blossom of fresh summer fruit, the smile was sweet and refreshing. Maybe, Richie began to think, things would look up for him. Maybe he’d get top surgery and his bipolar disorder would dissolve away and Eddie would fall in love with him despite him not being cis. 

“The consultation is on December seventeenth at noon.” Mrs. Tozier scanned her sons happy face, wiping away a few stray tears. “My sweet boy,” she said softly, bringing her hands up to cradle Richie’s face. “You’re gonna make it.” 

Richie wrapped his hand around his mother’s wrist gently and nuzzled into her touch. “I’m gonna make it, Ma.” 

-

“Bill!” Richie exclaimed into his cellphone. He fell backwards onto his bed eagerly, grinning up at the ceiling as though it had just offered to pluck the moon and stars out of the sky for him. 

“Richie, hey. Eddie---” 

“I have a top surgery consultation!” Richie shrieked, cutting his friend off. He was so giddy that he couldn’t help but have the words burst from his mouth. 

“Woah!” Bill replied, clearly caught off guard. “That’s awesome, Rich! When?” 

“December seventeenth! I’m so---I’m so  _ happy,  _ Bill!”

  
“That’s great, Richie, but---” Bill cut himself off with a sigh. “Eddie called me earlier and he seemed pretty upset. He said you sort of bailed on him and he couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong.” 

Richie frowned, staring down absently at his hand as he picked at his cuticle. He felt awfully guilty.  _ Maybe I should’ve just powered through... _ he thought, but as he inhaled he realized that he wouldn’t have been able to. The pain was just too great. “Yeah, god, I feel like such an ass but...I didn’t want to take my binder off. I sort of slept in it.”

“You slept in it!?”

“Yeah…” Richie switched from picking at his cuticles to nibbling on his bottom lip. “And my ribs got pretty bruised up. And it sort of really hurts to breathe. I had to leave, Bill. And I couldn’t explain why. You know that.” 

Bill exhaled, “I know.” 

Richie hummed for a moment before he said, “I didn’t think it’d be so hard to  _ not  _ tell someone I’m trans but---damn. Maybe I should just---” 

“Richie,” Bill warned sternly.

“I know but---” 

“You don’t know him well enough.”

“Yeah.” Richie agreed reluctantly. He wanted to be honest, though, despite the risks. Eddie didn’t seem like the judgmental type and, yeah, yeah, you never know, but Eddie was...well, he was Eddie. Too kind, too sweet, and too wonderful to be anything but nice. “But I want to.” 

“I know you do, but I care too much about you to let you risk it.” 

“Okay,” Richie said quietly. Despite the good news that his mother had just dropped on him, he was feeling a bit solemn now. 

“I’m not saying that you can never tell him. I’m just saying that you’ve only known him, what? Three weeks? Maybe just wait a little longer, alright, Richie? I just want you to---” he cut himself off, letting out a short, huffy breath. Richie knew who he was thinking back to. “I just want you to be okay.” 

“I will be.” Richie said, and he wasn’t sure if he really believed those words, but he said them anyway, just for some peace of mind. 

-

He didn’t know how to make things up to people---he never really had to. When something came up around Bill, he always understood, but with Eddie things were different; he was keeping stuff from him. That made things a bit harder. 

There were a couple of things that Richie did know, though. Number one was that Eddie liked things that were cute. Number two was that Thanksgiving was coming up. And number three was that Richie had a shit-ton of craft supplies tucked under his bed. His mother had bought the stuff for him so that when he was feeling upset, instead of taking things out on his arm with a blade, he’d take it out on a piece of paper with paint and glitter. 

That’s what Richie was about to do---except, he wasn’t particularly upset, more so feeling guilty. Eddie hadn’t deserved for him to run off right after he had finished up making breakfast. All of his hard work had gone to waste, and that made Richie feel like shit, but he reckoned that it probably made Eddie feel worse. 

Richie poked through the box of craft supplies, pulling out a pair of scissors and a nice, thick piece of paper. He cut it into the shape of a weird, jagged rectangle, then decided to scrap that. Pulling out another piece of paper, Richie thought about other shapes that he could cut the card into. He decided a heart would be cute, maybe, so he tried it out and it turned out pretty good. Not perfect. 

Like the other card he had cut, this one was jagged around the edges, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t smooth it out. After a frustrating moment of trying to he gave up with a groan and picked up a pencil so that he could draw a turkey on the front of the card. It was a crude, childlike drawing. The lines were wobbly and a little crooked, and the turkey’s eyes were a bit droopy and his beak was a bit too far down, but that gave him character, right? 

“This sucks,” Richie muttered to himself in irritation. It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying; he was! He was just pretty inept when it came to art. 

With his tongue poking out from between his lips, he carefully painted the turkey’s feathers with glue and then sprinkled various shades of glitter on it. This spruced the little guy up a bit. He coloured the turkey’s snood in carefully with a red coloured pencil, then added a bit more glitter to the bird. By the end of it all, the front of the card was absolutely glimmering. He certainly liked the look of it, and he hoped that Eddie would feel the same way. 

On the inside of the card, he drew a picture of he and Eddie chowing down on Thanksgiving brunch. He drew a cooked turkey, pumpkin pie, stuffing, green beans, and sweet potato casserole. By the end of it, his hand was aching, but he persisted and coloured everything in, and it didn’t end up looking terrible. 

He decided then that he’d give the card to Eddie as soon as he saw him on Monday, and he’d explain everything as best as he could. 


	13. I don't know what to cal this chapter lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another short one but like,,,,,,i dunno how to explain it. They kind of have to be because of the parts????if that makes sense. The spacing of the events needs to be right and the way to do that is to divide em up by chaPTERSSSS ! NEXT CHAPTER IS THE DANCE WHICH WILL BE LONGER!!!!!
> 
> Songs 
> 
> Talk Too Much - Coin 
> 
> Freaking Out - The Wrecks (This doesn't relate to the book at all, it's just a good song I'm listening to rn)
> 
> Twin Size Mattress - The Front Bottoms

Richie had come early to school on Monday, which was something that  _ never  _ happened. He had come in thirty minutes before class started and plopped himself down in his desk, earning an odd look from Mrs. Ellision. She stayed silent, though, and so did Richie, except for the incessant tapping of his finger on his desk. 

When the bell rang, Richie sucked in a nervous breath, knowing that within a few minutes Eddie would walk into the classroom. He scanned his eyes over the card that he made Eddie, nibbling on his bottom lip anxiously. 

A few students shuffled in; none of them Eddie. Then, after a few minutes, there he was, swaddled up in the jacket that Richie had given to him, wearing a soft coloured shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. Immediately, Richie jumped up from his seat and called out, “Eddie!” 

All eyes flicked over to him and he swallowed thickly while under everyone’s gaze. Eddie turned bright red and blinked for a moment before he stumbled forward, toward Richie. 

“What was  _ that _ ?” Eddie hissed, still not looking like he recovered from the embarrassment of having his name called out with no warning. 

Richie panicked for a moment before he shoved the card forward, spluttering. “For you!”   
  


Eddie quirked an eyebrow, letting his eyes fall down to what Richie was holding out. He flicked his eyes back up at Richie before looking down once more. Gingerly, he took the card, tilting his head in question. “Richie, what’s this?” 

“I’m sorry!” Richie blurted out. His eyes were wide and magnified from behind his lenses and he looked a bit frantic. He still hadn’t planned out exactly what he was going to say to Eddie, and this was the result of that. He cleared his throat, letting out a breath before he began. “Listen, Bill told me that you thought I left early because of something that you did but---it wasn’t. Something  _ did  _ come up, and I can’t really tell you  _ what _ \---which is sort of killing me---but---” Richie inhaled, looking a little dazed. “I’m sorry.” He finished. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. My life is just sort of a mess. So I made you a card, and we can hang out any time you want over Thanksgiving break. I  _ promise _ .”    
  
Eddie smiled a little bit, though he looked a bit unsure of himself. He opened the card and let his fingers trace the drawings on the inside. “It’s okay, Rich,” he spoke softly, closing the card. Richie was staring at him intently and Eddie felt himself fall a little harder for the boy in that moment. He reached up, brushing a curl that had fallen into Richie’s face away before he smiled. “I get it.” 

Richie’s mouth fell open slightly. “You do?” he asked. 

“Sure. Things come up.” 

Richie’s face split in two with a wide, bright smile. He surged forward, engulfing Eddie in a tight hug that made the card fall from Eddie’s hand and drift onto Richie’s desk. 

Eddie stiffened in shock. “Richie, I need to  _ breathe _ .” He flailed his arms slightly, but Richie didn’t let up. “Richie,” Eddie whined. 

Finally Richie pulled away, his face bright and happy. “You’re a good hugger, Eds,” he teased, and Eddie simply rolled his eyes, trying to push the blush that had rose up on his cheeks away. 

“Shut up, dummy,” Eddie shoved him, causing Richie to giggle a bit. 

“Whatever you say, Eddie, my love.” 

Eddie flipped Richie off clandestinely before he made his way to his seat, unable to get the words that Richie had just spoken out of his head. “My love,” Richie had called him, and Eddie’s heart was pounding in his chest. 

My love. 

_ My love. _

_ - _

“This is Ben; he’s sitting with us now.” 

Richie looked up from his sandwich, his eyes widening from behind his thick lenses. He flicked them from Eddie to Ben, then back to Eddie. 

Bill greeted Ben politely, as did Stan (who had started sitting with them a couple of days ago.) Richie cleared his throat gruffly, muttering a “hi” to Ben before he shoved more of his lunch into his mouth. 

Eddie looked at Richie for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “That’s Bill,” Eddie said, pointing at Bill, “and that’s Stan, and that’s Richie.” Eddie finished, pointing accordingly. 

“Hey!” Ben smiled, waving a little. 

Conversation quickly began to develop between their group. It turned out that Ben had many interests. Rocks, crystals, science, and even  _ birds _ . That last interest really resonated with Stanley.

Richie was a little jealous of Ben, which made him feel dumb. He  _ shouldn’t  _ be jealous. Jealousy was a bad thing, and he knew that well, but  _ still  _ seeing Eddie grin at Ben, and seeing his eyes light up because of something that Ben said ignited something hot and unpleasant within him. He hated himself for it. 

Ben also managed to make Richie feel dysphoric. 

When he was younger, and when he wasn’t on hormones, just  _ looking  _ at a cis guy would make him dissolve into tears. He’d cry and sob and claw up his skin and mark up his arms until he passed out. Sometimes he’d sneak some of his dad’s liquor and get drunk. They weren’t good times---Richie hated that he was reminded of them now. 

Ben was free. He was intelligent and kind and outgoing despite Richie’s standoffish behavior. He was cis, too. He wasn’t shackled to transitioning or the words of transphobes or “what if”s. He could just be himself, no worries. 

He could be himself around Eddie. No worries. 

Bill noticed the deep frown that had made its way onto Richie’s face and shoved him a bit, raising his eyebrows. 

Richie simply waved him off, letting out a deep breath. He looked at Ben for a moment, nibbling on his bottom lip. He didn’t want to be jealous. He didn’t want to dislike Ben for something that he couldn’t help, so he wasn’t going to. Plain and simple. 

“Hey, Ben,” Richie pulled a tight lipped smile onto his face, catching Ben’s attention. “We’re all going to the winter dance together. Um,” he glanced around the table, noticing that everyone was staring at him in intrigue. “I was wondering if you’d like to join us?” 

A bright smile broke out on Ben’s face and he nodded eagerly. “Sure!” he exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement, and how could Richie stay jealous at that? 

It was simple, he couldn’t. 

-

Eddie tugged on the straps of his backpack for a second as he stared down at his shoes. “That was a really nice thing to do, Rich.” 

Richie quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head. “What?” 

“Inviting Ben to the dance. That was sweet of you to do. After lunch he told me how excited he was.” 

Richie smiled a bit. He was glad he had done it. Just seeing Ben smile was enough to convince him that his short-lived jealousy was stupid, and he didn’t want to be jealous anyway. His father used to be like that---he wasn’t anything like his father, and he maintained that. He’d change the similarities if he had to. 

“It’s really not a big deal. I already got Bill and Stan to go together. I guess I’m a matchmaker---hey, maybe I can do the same for Ben. Who does he want to bone?” 

Bill eyes widened at Richie’s joke and he shoved him in the side as hard as he could, causing Richie to stumble off of the sidewalk and into the road a little. “Ruh-Ruh-Ruh-Richie!” 

Eddie’s eyebrows pulled together. He felt anxiety pool within his stomach and he was quickly reminded of the last joke Richie made about Stan and Bill. He couldn’t tell if the quips were meant to be homophobic or not. 

“You’re going with Stan?” Eddie asked cautiously, unsure of what reaction he’d receive. 

Bill wrapped his arms around himself, a guarded expression crossing his face. Something else was mixed in there too. Fear, maybe? Eddie wasn’t sure. 

“Y-y-y-y-yeah.” 

Immediately, Richie curled an arm around Bill. He pulled him closer and then leaned down to whisper something into his ear. Bill nodded solemnly. “Why?” Richie asked, that same guarded expression coating his features. “Do you have a problem with that?” 

Eddie’s eyes widened a little bit and he put his hands up as if to show his innocence. “No! No!” A bright blush spread across his cheeks and words began spilling from his mouth. He couldn’t stop them. “I’m actually gay!” He’d said the phrase louder than he wanted to---louder than he had anticipated, and it was so abrupt that both Bill and Richie stopped in their tracks, staring at Eddie in mild disbelief. 

“Oh.” Bill said simply, relief setting into his body. His shoulders relaxed and a small, lazy smile spread across his lips. 

Richie grinned widely, leaping over to where Eddie was. He leaned down, pinched his cheeks, and cooed at him. “Wow! I knew my little Eds was too cute to be straight! I mean just  _ look  _ at him! Look at him, would ya, Bill? Isn’t he just the  _ cutest _ !”

“Sure is,” Bill replied, watching in amusement as Eddie slapped Richie away. 

Eddie wrapped his hands tightly around Richie’s wrists and pulled them away from his bright red cheeks. He was trying his hardest to act and look mad, but he kept breaking the stony exterior by giggling and smiling.

“Shut up, Richie!” Eddie squeaked out, looking up at the taller boy with complete and utter fondness. Richie was beaming as though Eddie had just given him the world, which was weird, but Eddie didn’t want to question it. The expression looked good on Richie. 

“As you wish, my little Eddie Spaghetti.” 

Eddie smiled, pushing Richie off of him. They all regained their composure and fell back into their places, walking back to Richie’s house so that they could all work on their english homework together. There was a certain lightness within Eddie that he didn’t quite understand. He supposed that it came from the fact that he had been accepted. He hadn’t been pummeled for called slurs for his sexuality, no. And now, walking home, Eddie thought himself to be silly for ever thinking that he was at risk for those things while he was around Bill and Richie. They were both too good for that. 


	14. Yall I'm so sorry idk what to call this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I should apologize. I've been really depressed lately and all I can do is watch Dr. Who. Everything I write I hate. It's really not a fun time. So I'm sorry for the wait. I don't like this chapter, but it's what I've got so ,,, No songs for this chapter, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Hopefully I'll be able to write more consistently lol. Thanks for reading <333 check out the high school AU cowards

Richie frowned at Bill, scanning his friend before he began to nibble on his bottom lip nervously. School events always made him nervous, which is why he usually avoided them, but this was something that he simply couldn’t avoid. And it’s not like he  _ wanted  _ to, either. He wanted to go to this dance; he wanted to enjoy himself. He was just nervous. 

Bill looked down at the red tie around his neck, his brows pulling together tightly. Richie didn’t know how to tie a tie and had never bothered to learn, so he had bugged Bill until he had relented and said he’d tie it for him. 

As he tightened it around Richie’s neck, he smiled slightly. He smoothed out the fabric with gentle fingers. “L-looks good, Rich.”

Richie fingered the tie nervously, his face scrunching up as he did so. He looked down on the thing, then focused on his fingers. His cuticles were red and irritated from all the picking at them that he had done. Some fingers had small cuts littered across them that stung painfully, but he tried his best to pay no mind to them. 

“Really?” Richie asked, looking back up at Bill. He ran a hand through his wild curls for a second, letting out a tense breath. 

“Sure,” Bill patted his shoulder with a hearty grip, smiling a little. 

“You too, Bill,” Richie nodded toward his friend, stiffening when the sound of the doorbell rang throughout the house. “That’ll be them,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. 

“H-hey. Duh-duh-don’t b-be nervous.” 

Richie nodded stiffly before he turned on his heel to meet Ben, Stan, and Eddie at the front door. Stan had offered to swing by everyone’s house to pick them all up, and everyone agreed that that would be the best course of action.

“Richie!” Mrs. Tozier called out as Richie began to hop down the stairs. 

“Um, yeah, ma?” 

“Am I gonna be able to get some pictures of you boys?” She poked her head around the doorway that led into her bedroom. She was wearing a small, sparkly smile that melted some of Richie’s nerves. 

“Sure, ma. Just don’t embarrass me.”    
  
Mrs. Tozier flashed him a thumbs up before he continued down the stairs. Once he arrived at the front door, he eyed it warily before he reached out and turned the knob. Upon opening it, he saw his friends. First he scanned Stan, then Ben, then Eddie. He blinked down at the small boy but averted his gaze before he’d catch him staring. 

“Come on in,” Richie said, motioning towards the inside of the house. As the group filed inside, Bill came padding down the stairs with Richie’s mother trailing not too far behind. 

Everyone greeted each other, and Richie introduced his mother to all of his friends. 

“That’s Stan, and that’s Ben, and that’s…” Richie trailed off for a moment, his eyes raking Eddie’s body a little too obviously. He was in a baby blue button up with dark skinny jeans and he looked...well. Richie was a bit breathless at the sight, to sum things up simply.

“Eddie.” Eddie finished for Richie, stepping forward so that he could shake Mrs. Tozier’s hand. 

“Wow!” Mrs. Tozier squealed slightly, smiling brightly and so widely that her eyes scrunched up with the expression. “Such a gentleman!” She dropped her voice down an octave, “Richie’s told me so much about you.” 

“O-oh,” Eddie sputtered as red heat rose to his cheeks. 

“Ma!” Richie exclaimed in disbelief. Hadn’t he told her firmly not to embarrass him? 

“Alright, alright. Let me get a few pictures and then you boys can take off.” 

Once the pictures had all been taken, the boys eagerly left the house and slipped into Stan’s mother’s van. Stan sat in the driver’s seat (obviously; like he’d let anyone else drive), Ben sat in the passenger's seat, Bill sat in the row behind Stan and Ben, and Richie and Eddie sat in the very back. 

“You look...um, nice,” Richie told Eddie in a low voice as Stan pulled away from the curb. 

“Really?” Eddie asked softly, sounding a little unsure of himself. 

“Yeah. That colour really suits you, you know.” 

Eddie nodded, and for a split second, a splash of dim orange painted his pale skin. It disappeared quickly as Stan turned down a corner where the sidewalks were mostly absent of streetlamps. “Thanks, Richie. You look good, too.” 

Richie grinned, winking at Eddie teasingly. “Hell yeah I do! I always look good!” 

Eddie giggled a little, shoving him in the side. He smiled softly, and intertwined with the expression on his face was something gentle and a little bit secretive. “Can I...can I tell you something?” 

Richie tilted his head, focusing on his friend. He adjusted his glasses slightly, “Sure, Eds, what’s up?”

“Um,” Eddie shifted in his seat, swallowing anxiously. “I’ve never been to a dance before. I’m kind of...nervous.” 

“Oh,” Richie said shortly, contemplating what Eddie had just said. “Well, don’t be, alright? I’m right here beside you. I won’t let anything happen to my little Eddie, got it?” 

Eddie blinked at Richie owlishly before he smiled a little. His heart grew very full at that moment, and he thought then that he had never been as happy as he was in this moment. He couldn’t even begin to express how grateful he was to have Richie. 

With slow, gentle movements, Eddie scooted closer to his friend and leaned his head onto his shoulder. He closed his eyes, listening to the steady sound of Richie’s breath, and the humming of the wheels of the car. He hadn’t expected his life to get so good. 

-

Upon entering the school’s gym where the dance was being held, Ben declared that he was thirsty and was going to get some punch. Eddie and Stan had gone with him leaving Richie to rant to Bill about what had just happened only a few minutes ago in the car. 

“He laid his head on my  _ shoulder _ , Bill!”    
  
Bill blinked at Richie, looking a little amused. “And?” 

“Do I  _ need  _ to repeat myself? 

“I mean---” Bill began, only to be cut off by Richie. 

“His  _ hair! _ His  _ hair _ , Bill, it smelt like  _ strawberries! _ ” he exclaimed, waving his hands around wildly. As Richie was saying so, his stomach was fluttering uncontrollably and a thought popped into his mind. 

He wanted to be honest with Eddie. 

He wanted to be honest with Eddie because he wanted to hold Eddie’s hand, and dance with him in the same carefree way that he had at that party. He wanted to press soft kisses to his forehead and his nose and his cheeks. He wanted to buy him stuffed animals and cut the crust off of his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches the way he liked (he’d always gripe about it at lunch whenever his mother didn’t). 

Oh, Richie just wanted  _ him _ . So bad and so overwhelmingly, he wanted Eddie Kasbrak for himself, and so, then, he decided that he’d get him. After all, wasn’t he at least a little bit deserving of someone like Eddie? After everything he’d been through.

There was still the obvious problem but---but Richie was determined!

“Strawberries?” Bill asked in an almost mocking fashion. 

Richie shot a faux glare his way. “Shut up, Bill.”   


Bill mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key, and as he did so, Richie’s expression grew softer. 

“I think…” he began, shifting from foot to foot. “I think I’m gonna tell him.” 

At this, Bill started, stiffening a little bit. His face scrunched up and he shook his head. “Richie---” 

“I know,” Richie put his hands up so that his palms were facing Bill. He frowned. “I’ve got it, Bill. I’ve heard it all before. ‘It’s dangerous.’ ‘Eddie could be transphobic.’” Richie said in a high pitched, squeaky voice as he pulled his fingers into air quotes. “But I don’t  _ care _ , Bill. I want him to know, and I don’t  _ care _ .”

Bill frowned, looking pensive for a moment before he stepped forward and placed his hands on Richie’s shoulders. “Okay, Rich.” He said resolutely, nodding firmly. “Do it.”    
  
Richie’s eyebrows rose to his pale, freckle splattered forehead and his mouth fell open. “You’re okay with this?”   


Bill shrugged. “No, not really. But I’ve seen how happy he makes you. So, go for it, you know?”    


A bright grin spread across Richie’s face and he bounded forward, wrapping Bill up in a tight, warm hug. “Thanks, Bill. You’re always so...supportive.” 

Bill patted Richie on the back, “No problem, Rich.” 

-

Thirty minutes later, the dance was in full swing, and yet, Richie, Ben, and Eddie were sitting with their backs pressed up against the bleachers, scanning the gym blankly, letting their eyes loll from person to person. 

“They’re cute,” Ben commented as he flicked his eyes over Ben and Stan. 

The two were dancing together, all tangled up in each other’s arms. Bill had his head pressed to Stan’s chest, and his ear to where his heart was. He was listening to the murmur of the beat softly while Stan ran his hands through his soft hair. 

“They really are, huh?” Richie replied, leaning forward. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and watched the two intently. He was pretty proud of Bill. Quiet Bill who always tried to be reserved and keep to himself. Bill who was afraid of his own sexaulity but wouldn’t admit it. 

He had been positively scarred from what had happened with Ashton, and sometimes Richie thought that the wounds were still far too fresh, but tonight he showed total disregard for those events. 

It was a big step.

“So Ben,” Richie began, leaning back. He crossed his arms loosely across his chest. “Are  _ you _ crushing on anyone?”

A blush spread across Ben’s cheeks, but it was hard to see under the dim light of the gym. He swallowed thickly before nodding reluctantly. “Um, yeah. But she’d never go for a guy like me.” 

From next to Richie, Eddie snorted. “That’s a  _ lie _ .”

Ben rolled his eyes. “No it’s  _ not,  _ Eddie.” 

“Sure, Ben. It’s not as if any girl would be lucky to have you.” Eddie quipped.

“Who is it? Spill the  _ beans _ , Ben!” Riche urged. 

“Um,” Ben shifted, tugging on the sleeves of his blazer a little nervously. He glanced off to the side, mumbling a name incoherently. 

“Huh?” Richie asked, shifting closer. 

Ben let out a loud sigh. “Beverly Marsh.” 

“Oh!” Richie exclaimed, beaming. “She’s  _ awesome _ , and she’d  _ totally  _ go for you!” 

Ben’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “You think so?” he asked, tone so full of earnestly that it sort of made Richie’s heart ache. 

“Sure!” Richie grinned, patting Ben on the back. “You’re too sweet for anyone  _ not  _ to like. Just, woo her with your charm, or something.”

Ben laughed a little, sounding a bit nervous and bashful. “Thanks, Richie. So what about you?”

“Me?” Richie sputtered, his eyes widening in panic. 

“Yeah. Who do you have the hots for?” Ben inquired innocently. 

“Okay,” Richie laughed, his voice wavering a bit. “First of all, what is this, 1950? Who says, “The hots”? Also,  _ no one! _ I don’t like  _ anyone! _ ”

Eddie leaned over, tilting his head to the side. “Anyone?” 

“Well, um---” Richie began, but just before he could stutter out an answer, Bill and Stan stumbled toward them, grinning, hanging onto each other tightly. 

“Why aren’t you guys dancing?” Stan questioned, pushing a golden curl from his face. 

“Oh, you know me.” Richie waved a hand around, making sure to look like he had only a minor amount of control of his appendages. “I can’t.” 

Stan turned to Eddie. “Well, what’s your excuse?” 

“Um,” Eddie said, frowning a little. He looked caught off guard, as though he hadn’t even considered the possibility of dancing. “There’s nobody to dance  _ with _ . And I’m sort of like Richie. I really can’t.” 

Stan rolled his eyes, letting out a bubbly laugh. “That’s bullshit,” he smiled. “I saw you at that party. You sure knew how to dance  _ then. _ ” His eyebrows rose accusingly and he leaned forward, tossing a hand out. “Come dance with me and Bill.” 

“W-what?” Eddie asked, recoiling a bit. “Stan no, I---” 

Stan reached forward, pulling Eddie up by the wrist. “Come on, Kasbrapk, it’ll be fun.”

“Um---” Eddie cut himself off as he was whisked away, and Richie was left watching him longingly. 

That had been his chance. That had been his chance to ask Eddie to dance, and instead, Stan had pulled him out onto the dancefloor. How lame was that? How lame was Richie? 

Ben tilted his head, staring at Richie with contemplative eyes for a moment before he said, “It’s him.” 

Riche whipped to the side. “What?” 

“You do like someone,” Ben said as though it wasn’t a big deal that he had picked up on that. “You like Eddie.” 

Richie’s brows pulled together and his mouth fell open. “Am I that  _ obvious _ ?”

Ben shrugged. “Sort of. But Eddie is, too.” 

“ _ What _ ?” 

Ben quirked his eyebrow, “What? You haven’t  _ noticed?  _ With the way he looks at you and all…?” 

Richie lurched forward, his eyes widening. They looked like large pieces of amber that had been cut so that they reflected the light brilliantly. “What do you mean, “The way he looks at me”?” 

“Um,” Ben leaned back awkwardly, trying to put some space between he and Richie. “You know, all softly, and stuff.” 

Richie blinked, trying to think back to all of the times that he and Eddie had hung out. The thing was, he couldn’t understand what Ben was talking about. Sure, there were lingering glances and sometimes they’d hold hands for a beat longer than they were supposed to, but Richie had never thought that Eddie reciprocated any of the feelings that he felt. The only thing that had given him hope was what had happened back in car. 

But then...there was still the whole, “Hey, Eddie, I’m trans!” thing. 

Richie couldn’t decide whether or not to deflate and cry out of frustration or jump for joy. Finally, though, after a moment, he let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping as he did so. 

Ben frowned, unsure of how that sort of news had served to make Richie unhappy. “Are you alright?” he question gently. 

“Uh, yeah.” Richie nibbled on his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go outside and get some fresh air.” 

Richie pushed himself up from the floor, not bothering to wait for Ben’s reply before he set off, stuffing his hands into his pockets a little miserably. 

Richie found himself wishing, then, that he was cis. Because if he was, he wouldn’t have to deal with these stupid problems that always managed to make him feel like it was the end of the world. If he was cis, he could just  _ go for it  _ with Eddie. If he was cis, he wouldn’t have to hide fundamental parts of him or worry about who he should and shouldn’t trust. 

Richie burst through the school doors that led outside, inhaling sharply as cool air surrounded him. He sort of felt like crying, which made him feel stupid because he supposed that this really wasn’t that big of a deal, but no matter how much he told himself that, the tug at his tear ducts wouldn’t dissolve away. 

The truth of the matter, though, is this dilemma ran much deeper than the fear that Eddie might not accept him. Because, in Richie’s mind, if someone as sweet and as wonderful as Eddie couldn’t accept him then...well, who  _ would _ ? 

And sure, he had people like Bill and his mother, but, were they only nice to him because they  _ had  _ to be? And how could others accept him when he couldn’t even be confident in the fact that he  _ should  _ be accepted? 

“Agh,” Richie let out a noise of aggravation, and he noticed that he was shaking. He really needed a cigarette but he was really trying to quit so he didn’t have any on him. 

Richie stood there for awhile, and the minutes seemed to pass in an odd, warped way that he couldn’t explain. When the cold air was beginning to numb Richie’s cheeks, and when his lips were burning with how chapped they were, he turned to go back into the school, but before he could, the door swung wide open. 

For a moment, Richie was taken aback. He jumped, startled, but then the stiff feeling within him melted away as he saw Eddie’s bright face break through the dark of the night. 

He looked confused---that was the first thing that Richie noticed. His eyebrows were pulled together and his lips were set into a small, tight frown. “Why’re you out here?” he asked, and as he spoke, his warm breath turned into clouds in the cold. 

“Um,” Richie said, a little caught off guard. He scanned Eddie, and the second thing he noticed was that he looked ruffled in such a cute way. His hair was no longer neat and his cheeks were slightly flushed---there was no doubt in Richie’s mind that he had been dancing his heart out. He just sort of wished that he had been there to see it. 

“Jesus, it’s freezing, Rich.” Eddie mumbled, shivering. “Bill told me you wanted to talk about something. He told me to go find you.” He gave Richie an earnest, bemused look. “So?” 

“Oh,” Richie choked out. He looked down at his hands, and he was still shaking. 

“Rich?” Eddie asked softly. He noticed the shake of his fingers, the nervous tap of his dress shoe on rugged concrete, the gently forlorn expression that had fallen onto his features. 

“Um,” Richie said, looking up at Eddie in a quick, sharp movement. “I wanted to---” he cut himself off, his stomach churning. He wanted to tell Eddie so bad, but there was something blocking him from doing so. It was like God had given him a filter for the first time and at the worst moment possible.

“Hey,” Eddie stepped forward, reaching out to brush Richie’s shoulder, but before he could, Richie jerked away.

“Do you want to dance?” Richie blurted out frantically, looking a little erratic as he did so. 

Everything seemed to still for a painstaking moment before a small smile broke out on Eddie’s face. “Sure. I’d love to,” he fell silent for a second, letting his eyes rake over Richie. “Now come on, let’s get back inside. It’s freezing out here.” 

The warmth of the school melted away some of the tightness in Richie’s joints, but he still felt tense and high strung. Eddie had taken his hand and was leading him back to the gym, but just as they approached the doors, Richie froze. 

Eddie turned to glance at him over his shoulder. He quirked an eyebrow, tugging on Richie’s hand in an impatient manner. “Come on, Rich. What’s the hold up?” 

“Um,” Richie adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I can’t dance.” 

Eddie blinked at Richie, “Richie---” 

“I mean I can, but badly.” He continued in a rambly, nervous manner. “Listen, I---” 

Abruptly, Eddie cut Richie off, huffing loudly. He pulled Richie forward with so much force that Richie stumbled on his feet and fell into Eddie’s chest. Eddie stared up at Richie with a hard gaze, looking like he was trying to figure him out. Finally, after a contemplative moment, he said firmly, “Just dance.” 

Richie coughed, blinking a couple of times. Eddie tossed his arms over his shoulders and leaned further into him, humming contentedly. The music from the gym was seeping out into the hallway, and it was low and muted, but Eddie was still able to catch onto the beat and sway to it accordingly. Richie’s movements were languid and cumbersome, but Eddie didn’t seem to notice---or, if he did, he didn’t seem to mind. 

“You’re...warm.” Richie mumbled, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist slowly. 

Eddie giggled against Richie’s chest softly. “Maybe you’re just cold.” He suggested. 

“Maybe.” Richie looked down, and as he did so his chest fluttered. Eddie’s hair was a bit of a mess, but it looked as soft as silk and still smelled of sweet shampoo.

A comfortable silence fell between the two and both were content in the seemingly long seconds that stretched on in an odd, surrealistic way. The music, the low lighting of the hallway---everything created an atmosphere so gentle, and so specific that Eddie could help but pull away slightly and look up at Richie longingly. And just as well, Riche couldn’t help but stare down at Eddie with stars shining in his eyes so brightly that Eddie knew---he just  _ knew _ \---that walls had crumbled down. Walls that he hadn’t even known existed. 

“Eddie---” Richie began, but he was cut off quickly and abruptly as Eddie pushed himself up onto the tips of his toes and pressed his lips against Richie’s. 

Out of shock, Richie squeaked. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips back against Eddie’s in a too hard and too tense way. 

After a moment, Eddie pulled away. He let out a nervous breath and slid his hands to the center of Richie’s chest. “Rich…?” 

Richie froze, then he blinked a few times. “Eddie, there’s something you should know. About me. I think---er, at least I’m pretty sure you should know it  _ now _ .” 

Eddie’s eyebrows rose. “What is it?” 

“Um.” It was so close to coming out---he was so close to choking the words from his throat, but he just...couldn’t. “You know what,” Richie forced an awkward smile onto his face. “Nevermind.” He untangled himself from Eddie and stepped away. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“What?” Eddie questioned softly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

Richie laughed nervously, backing away further until he bumped into a row of lockers. “I---I should go.”

“Richie what are yo---”    
  
“I---I’ve gotta go.”  Richie turned swiftly, narrowing his eyes on the door at the end of the hallway. He could hear Eddie’s voice mixing with music, but he could also hear his own blood pumping in his ears harshly, and the unsteady rise and fall of his own chest. It was drowning out Eddie’s calls and the music and everything and honestly--- _ honestly _ , he just sort of wanted to go home. 


	15. And so Here we Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I honestly don't know where I've been----don't ask me. Here's the last chapter. I hope it's okay lol. I honestly can't believe that anyone likes this story hnggnrnrnofnsneifne. Okay. That's really all I've got to say. 
> 
> Pls be patient with my upcoming stories. I promise no mater how much I lag behind I'm still working on them, I'm just either at my job, or school, and I'm always tired. So. It's hard to write. 
> 
> Excyse any typos

Richie Tozier was many things. There were many facets and traits of his personality, but one of the things that he was very overtly was a coward. 

It was eleven a.m. on a Monday and he was laying in bed, spread out across his mattress, squeezing his eyes shut in irritation and dissatisfaction. Eddie had texted him about a hundred times, spamming him in hopes that he’d be annoyed enough to answer. And eventually, yeah, he did get pretty annoyed, but instead of answering, he just ignored him.

He had faked being sick, and his mother had believed his lie with no question, her expression contorting in worry the moment that he had told her he didn’t feel all that well. So now, here he was, moping around, replaying the moment that he ran out on Eddie in his mind over and over and over again. 

He felt bad about it, but what else could he do? He couldn’t  _ lie  _ to Eddie about  _ what  _ he was, that wasn’t right. But the thought of telling him made anxiety rise up his throat and swirl around in his stomach. 

Next to him, his phone buzzed for about the millionth time that day. Richie huffed then reached a pasty arm out to grab at it. He unlocked it, noticing that the text wasn’t who he suspected it would be from. Instead, it was from Bill. 

_ Bill: Eddie told me what happened  _

_ 11:27 am _

_ Bill: You were so adamant about telling him. What happened?  _

_ 11:27 am  _

Richie frowned at his phone, sighing loudly. He let out an aggravated groan and tried to blink the memories of the dance away. He sort of sucked a lot, and yet again, he had to make things right with Eddie. 

_ Richie: I don’t know _

_ 11:29 am  _

_ Bill: No offense but…...get ur shit together my guy! He seemed really confused and a little hurt when he talked to me  _

_ 11:30 am  _

_ Richie: I will _

_ 11:32 am  _

_ Richie: I 1000000 percent mean it this time. Thanks billy  _

_ 11:32 am  _

_ Bill: <3  _

_ 11:33 am  _

-

Richie startled awake at the shrill, high pitched ringing of the doorbell. In a haze of confusion, he groped around in an uncoordinated manner for his glasses, knocking his hipbone with the sharp point of his elbow as he did so. 

The doorbell continued to ring relentlessly and Richie let out an aggravated noise, jamming his glasses onto his face. He blinked against the lenses, his eyelashes curling up against his skin in an uncomfortable way. 

“Jesus Christ!” Richie yelled as he stumbled out of his bed. “I’m coming!” 

Vaguely, he racked his brain, wondering who could be at the door. His mother wouldn’t be home from work for a long while and Bill was at school. Other than that, he didn’t really know who would drop by midday. 

With unsteady feet, Richie tripped down the stairs, catching himself on the railing just before he plummeted face first down the flight. He rushed over to the door, frowning in slight exasperation. He reached for the doorknob, turned it, and swung the door open, and as he saw who was standing behind it, his face softened and his mouth fell open. 

There was Eddie, small and aggravated, looking tousled and rumpled with his hair sticking up at odd angles. He looked up at Richie sharply, his features twisting and contorting angrily for a moment before he rushed forward and lifted himself up onto the tips of his toes so that he could press a kiss to Richie’s lip. 

Stunned and caught off guard, Richie froze, flailing a little bit. Before he could process what was going on, Eddie pulled away. He jabbed his finger at Richie’s chest harshly. “You!---” he began, “are the stupidest person I’ve ever  _ met _ ! I like you!” He exclaimed, his voice sounding worn. “I like you and you just  _ can’t  _ accept that---or---I don’t know--- _ something’s  _ happening here.” He motioned between he and Richie wildly. “But  _ I  _ don’t know what, and Bill seems to know but  _ he  _ won’t tell me…” he trailed off, glancing to the side. 

“Eddie---” 

“Listen, Richie,” Eddie sighed, calming down. “I like you a lot, and I know that something’s wrong, but I can’t help you if you don’t  _ let  _ me.” 

“Right.” Richie said, still a little dazed. He nodded airily. “Right.”   
  


“So, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Eddie pressed, leaning forward onto the tips of his toes. His face was pulled together tightly, scrunched up with concentration. 

“No,” Richie answered quickly, then he flinched. “Yes---uh, I don’t know!” 

“Richie---”    
  
“It’s just---it’s really big, Eds. And---and you might hate me a little bit---or a lot. Or---”    
  
“Richie.” Eddie secured his hands on the sides of Richie’s arms, frowning. 

Richie swallowed thickly. Anyone else probably would’ve picked up on it by this point. Anyone else would’ve seen his binder peeking out from beneath his shirt or picked up on the way his voice inflection was a bit feminine. Anyone else would’ve recognized that he wasn’t a  _ real  _ boy. But this was  _ Eddie _ . Eddie who had been sheltered his whole life---Eddie who didn’t even know that being gay was a thing until his sophomore year of high school. 

“It’ll be okay, I promise. If you let me in, I certainly won’t abuse that.” He said solemnly. After looking thoughtful for a moment he added, “You don’t  _ have  _ to tell me, but---”   
  
“I’m trans!” Richie blurted out loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. He stood still, sandwiched between Eddie’s hands for a long moment before he blinked his eyes open to see Eddie’s confused, flat face. 

“What?” 

Richie sucked in a sharp breath.  _ Oh great _ , he thought mildly,  _ now I have to explain it…  _ “I’m a transsexual,” he elaborated, his face scrunching up in distaste. It made him dysphoric to talk about it. 

Eddie’s face didn’t change. He still looked just as confused. “I don’t...know what that means.” 

“Of course!” Richie laughed sarcastically, then he frowned under Eddie’s earnest gaze. He squirmed slightly and Eddie dropped his hands. “I’m not  _ really  _ a boy---well I am. I mean,  _ I am _ \---I guess I should stop describing it that way. That’s my  _ own  _ insecurity, you know?” he rambled. 

“ _ What _ ?” 

“My body is wrong,” Richie said quickly, hoping that this would mean anything to Eddie, but that didn’t seem to make anything better. Finally, he let out a breath and tried to calm himself down. He probably wasn’t going to be able to explain when he was all rambly and erratic. “Come on,” he said, taking Eddie’s hand in his own. 

“Richie, what?---” 

“Listen, I’m going to try to explain,” Richie began, trudging up the stairs as he pulled Eddie behind him. “But it’s not going to be easy because I suck at this stuff---being serious and all…” He nibbled on his bottom lip anxiously. His heart was pounding so hard against his chest that he thought he might pass out. “But listen,” he walked down the hallway and stopped in front of his bedroom door, sucking in a breath. “I really want you to know.” His lips curled up into a nervous, shaky smile. 

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Right.” He said firmly in a bemused manner. 

Richie opened the door to his bedroom, swinging it so far open that the knob hit the wall with a loud thud. He pulled Eddie into his room and sat him down on the edge of his bed. For a few quick seconds he paced back and forth before he blinked over at Eddie. 

“Right,” Richie said, “Well,” he plopped down next to Eddie. “I was a born a girl.”

“Wha---” 

“No,” Richie interrupted, letting out a soft breath. His brain was scrambled and fried and he was so tired of pretending and he was so close to not having to. “Let me explain.” 

Eddie nodded, scanning Richie. He didn’t understand, but he  _ wanted  _ to.

“I was born with a girl’s body, but,” Richie smiled sadly and his gaze shifted from Eddie to the floor. “But here’s the kicker; I’m not a girl. So it was wrong,” he glanced back up at Eddie. “All wrong. And for years I lived in that body, and for years I knew that things just weren’t  _ right _ and I wasn’t sure why. Then, one day, things just  _ clicked _ and I realized  _ why  _ things were wrong. Then a couple years after  _ that _ , I finally began correcting it all.” He stared into Eddie’s eyes firmly, curling his lips into a slight grimace. “I started testosterone, and I began binding my chest, and now I look like this.” Richie shimmied slightly, “Pretty snazzy, eh?” 

Eddie smiled softly for a moment before he lurched forward and engulfed Richie in a hug. He pressed his face into the crook of his neck and held on as tightly as he could. 

“You---” Richie swallowed thickly, taken aback by the hug. “You understand?” he questioned tentatively, unsure. 

“No,” Eddie replied, his words muffled by Richie’s skin. “But I don’t have to understand to know that I like  _ you _ , regardless of anything else.”    
  
At those words, Richie could’ve melted. He could’ve  _ cried _ , but he didn’t. He did his best to keep his composure and not fall apart in Eddie’s arm, but it was so hard because his heart was so full. 

“Eddie,” he said, broken and muted, his breath hitching in his throat. And then, “Edd _ ie _ ,” he repeated, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

“Sh…” Eddie hushed him as he pulled away from the hug. He smiled slightly, scanning Richie’s face. He looked scattered and pale and messy, but Eddie was glad to see him. He lifted a hand to smooth out a couple curls before he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Richie’s jaw. “I like you, Rich.” He affirmed. “A lot.” 

-

Richie had fallen asleep at some point, though he didn’t know when. He and Eddie had talked for hours. Mostly, Eddie asked him questions, and Richie answered them all truthfully, but then there was a point when Eddie said, “Actually,  _ I  _ have something to tell  _ you _ .” And then he proceeded to tell Richie that Emily and Steven weren’t his parents, they were simply fostering him. And Richie almost confessed to Eddie that he had  _ known  _ that (even though that fact filled him with shame. It felt violating to know such a personal thing about someone when they didn’t tell you), but Eddie continued before he could slip in. 

“That’s the real reason why I moved here.” Eddie said, staring up at Richie’s ceiling with a glint of an emotion that Richie couldn’t place flashing in his eyes. “And I guess this is better than New York. My mother was--- _ god _ . Well, she was a piece or work. And Steven and Emily are fine, but they’re not great. They don’t feel like  _ parents  _ to me.” Eddie paused, blinking a little bit. “My point is, Richie,” he turned to face him, “I’ve always felt alone. I felt alone back in New York, and I feel alone here---except, not when I’m with you---any _ ways,”  _ he smiled slightly in a sad way, “I don’t want you to feel alone again. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t  _ tell  _ me things. Because I know what that feels like, and it sucks.” 

Richie smiled and reached over to grab Eddie’s hand. He pressed it against his cheek and nuzzled into his palm, “Why are you the best person ever?” 

“Why are you a nerd?” Eddie replied, giggling a little as Richie feigned offense. 

“I am  _ not! _ ” he gaped. 

“You are  _ too _ !” Eddie mocked as he began to wrestle with Richie for his hand back. After a moment, he let a thoughtful look cross his face and began to hum. 

“What?” Richie questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

“So, you’re like, my boyfriend now, right?” Eddie questioned, moving his hand out of Richie’s grip and up to his hair. 

Immediately, blood began to rush to Richie’s cheeks. “Um---” he stuttered. “Am---am I?” 

Eddie’s brows pulled together in mild confusion. “Are you?” he asked. 

“I---I don’t know! And when did you get so confident!?” Richie squeaked out, rubbing at his cheeks which were becoming warmer and warmer by the second. 

Eddie shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. I guess I just got tired of waiting.”    
  
“For what?” 

“For you to realize that I want to be in a relationship with you.” Eddie giggled, his cheeks flushing slightly with a soft rosy colour. “You’re kind of oblivious.”    
  


“Oh,” Richie scoffed animatedly, “And you  _ aren’t?  _ I’ve been flirting with you since that day we met.” 

“Oh,” Eddie blinked up at the ceiling, thinking back to all the times that he and Richie had hung out. “I guess you have been.” 

“ _ Yeah. _ ” 

“Well, at least we’re here now.”

“With each other?” 

“Yeah.” 

It was then that every ounce of fear and anxiety disappeared from both boys. The weariness, and tentativeness drained from them quickly because, for the first time in Eddie’s life, and one of the rare times in Richie’s, they were both free. No longer were they restrained by secrets that seemed more earth-shattering than they actually were. No longer was Richie  _ afraid _ of being rejected, and no longer was Eddie  _ afraid  _ of where he had come from the the experiences that one held him down. 

They were together, and they were okay, and that’s how things would stay. They would both make sure of that. 


End file.
